One Force
by StrangeCrispy
Summary: Chapter 1 Set 1.5 yrs post Season One in AU. Nathan has died and Peter is a shutin. Until a reformed and monitored Sylar come to ask for his assistance. 9 Chapters of their adventure to rescue the woman Sylar loves.
1. Chapter 1

Project 0

Peter wanted to fly so bad. He wanted to be up in the air again, looking over the city. It was a particularly clear night, and New York was still. Everything was still and quiet. Except Peter. Peter was an Empath, and without his memories and emotions, his powers were useless. But some of those memories were too painful...

_"Goodbye, Pete. I love you."_

Wind, then darkness.

That fateful night was the last he had seen of his brother Nathan. His mother had spun some story to the press about an engine failure and a jet explosion, but Peter knew what that flash over New York was. Nathan was gone and Peter only had himself to face for it. Claire reminded him countless times that Nathan flew them up on his own accord, but that wasn't enough for him. Now, whenever he closed his eyes, there was the same image ingrained there. Nathan hovering above as Peter fell, and then a white flash.

His guilt wasn't the only thing keeping him up now. His apprehension over his former-enemy loomed over him too. Sylar had recently resurfaced from the sewer, somewhat of a changed man. After healing some, Sylar decided that living like a rat was no way to live for someone of his status. In the rocky recovery of normalcy, Sylar sat down with the-man-known-to-some-only as Bennett, working out a truce. There would only be an endless loop of mindless fighting if Sylar persisted in his quest for eternal dominance. Bennett had set up quite the crew to oppose any villain. Especially since they had Molly Walker to keep tabs.

Peter knew that if he were pushed to it, he would fight the good fight again. But right now, Peter needed to rest. The last thing he wanted to do was activate any of his abilities, for fear they could go haywire. So night-after-night Peter sat awake in the study his father and brother used to inhabited. The empty room, a museum to those-who-were-gone. Father and brother. Two strong men. Peter was always The Sensitive One. The Nurse. The One Who Cared. Not 'The Fighter' or 'The Warrior.' But Noah Bennett, on his occasional check-ins with Peter, would let it slip that his team could use someone like Peter. And every time, Peter had the same answer, "I've paid my dues. I don't want any more blood on my hands."

The team was more of a sleeper cell. A group of people waiting to protect; but they were by no means secret agents. None of them had any sort of special training. Only the heart and conviction to do what was right. They had recently come up with a name for themselves, **'The Company.'** It wasn't original, but that wasn't the point. The point was to start over from bare basics. They eliminated the need to monitor and track; while swearing only to protect and guard. They only intervened when a person of special ability would become a menace to the normal order of things. In most instances, they offered their opponent a chance to join their ranks and become educated on the perks to fighting for the good guys. That's not to say that there weren't casualties along the way. But Bennett, their leader, knew losses were inevitable.

Peter had enough losses. He also had his fair share of terrible dreams. His guilt would sometimes manifest itself in his dreams. He wouldn't give himself that opportunity. Sleep was tempting for the main reason that perhaps Charles Deveaux would be there, to advise him. He hadn't seen the spectral Deveaux since the night of the explosion. He wanted so bad for someone to give him an answer. A map to show him of what to do next. Isaac Mendez' power was in him somewhere, dormant. Peter soon became uneasy with the idea that he could view the future. What he was uneasy about was that it would most likely get out of his hands, and he would overload again. It was hard living day-to-day as a former exploding man. Life wasn't easy for any of the Petrellis.

His mother had become made of stone. Her world had fallen apart all in a matter of a few months. So many people around her had died. Her husband; her son; Charles Deveaux; Linderman. This wasn't the way it was supposed to be. Her son was going to be President. It's no lie that a parent feels the pain when they outlive a child. But when that child was meant to be Leader of the Free World, the pain is that much greater. And all for the stupid reason of maintenance. That's how she saw it. Nathan could never get his mind around the importance of change; the big picture. If he had only known how much fighting she had done to get him into that power position, he would have been alive. If she had been more honest with her children, maybe Nathan would still be alive. If she had been open with them about their powers, maybe then they would play ball how their predecessors played ball. Angela Petrelli was stuck in a rut, thinking about If.

Still, no one's heart felt heavier than Peter's. He would sometimes smile about how this was just like coming home after college, before he ever considered medical school. He had come back, only to do a lot of nothing. He took an odd job here and there; working different menial task to get paid. Nathan was behind getting him most of those. _Goddammit! Does everything get back to Nathan?,_ Peter thought. Peter wanted peace from his demons. The only way to alleviate problem is to get your mind off of them. So he decided that he was going to start over. Those odd jobs were still out there. He knew he was more prepared than ever to adapt to different skills. He had to do something to get his mind off the pain. He rushed upstairs. Somewhere in Nathan's room was his address book. Peter would call an old employer, any old employer, to save him from this endless mess. He stormed up the stairs, quickly trying to resolve an issue that had been staring him in the face for a year now. He grabbed the handle of the door and threw it open quickly. So quickly that it almost clipped Sylar in the nose.

"Hey Pete. Long time no see"

Peter hadn't used his powers in over a year. But it was only instinct when his Telekinesis launched Sylar up and back. But Sylar was still one for speed. He turned the flight back into a back flip and landed safely on his feet. The dark figure laughed heartily, "Why would you do that? You know we have a peace." Peter still gasping for air from the fright, asked, "What are you doing in my brother's room?" Sylar only smirked and lifted his eyebrows, "Thing about seeing the future is, you know where and when to expect a person. Your mother doesn't have any sort of video surveillance on the second floor. I need to talk to you; just you. She spooks me out."

"I...I can't believe you are here. Why have you broken into my family's home? After all you have put me through, what you've put US ALL through? How dare you..." Sylar could see a little spark in Peter's eyes. "Calm down, hero. I mean you no harm. Remember, all those days are behind me. I've paid my dues." Peter was taken aback, "You should be locked up. You should be cast out. Exiled, forbidden to come near another living soul. You left a trail of dead bodies for personal gain. Those 'dues' you've paid, seem pretty light compared to the toll your destruction has brought." Sylar took a seat on the bed. "Peter, you know that no prison can hold me. Not even ones made by Bennett and your mother's closed down 'testing facility.' I'm too powerful to imprison or kill, but too dangerous to be left unmonitored. Cutie-Pie Walker has her omniscient gaze on me at all times. I can't take a leak without thinking about her snickering somewhere."

"Yeah, well I can imagine how hard it is being you. Now get the hell out of here." Sylar looked up to Peter. Solemnly he looked him in the eye. Peter had no idea what the madman's next move would be. Peter had heard stories through the grapevine that Sylar was reformed. As the young man stood on edge, he decided to give Sylar a chance. "Tell me why you're here." Sylar stood, detecting the subtle fear in Peter. "Why don't you read my mind? That way you can know I'm telling the truth."

"First off, I don't use my powers anymore; second, that doesn't always work. Tell me why you're here."

"Sad to hear that you don't use your powers. That would be the reason I am here. I need your help. Someone has stolen from me, and I need you at my side to go get retribution."

"You're joking right."

"Not about this."

"Who stole what?"

"This isn't a case of petty theft, Peter. This is straight out kidnapping. I am most certain it's a trap, but right now all I care about is getting her back..."

Peter smiled as Sylar paused. He didn't want it to slip it was about a girl. But it had to come out sooner or later. Sylar looked at Peter coldly. Before Peter could fully open his mouth the make a quip, Sylar interjected, "Before you get all schoolyard on me with the insults, know this: She is the balance I have needed. The only reason I don't go crazy on this whole city is because of the pure joy she fills me with. She is my light, my _GUIDING_ light." Peter overpowering the lovestruck Sylar, took a seat on the dresser.

"No, no Sylar. I understand. It sounds like the Great American Love of the Century. So someone you wronged, which last I remembered, was a pretty extensive list, has come along and wronged you. Now you want us to powerhouse this offender into oblivion? Maybe slice his body parts off, or freeze him into an iceberg?" Sylar shook his head. "So ready to judge..tsk tsk...As appealing as that all sounds, I need you for a few more subtler powers. Plus your diplomacy." Peter had held his laughter before all this, hoping not to wake his mother, but this was too much. He chuckled as Sylar ran over to him, shushing him. "Keep it down. Every time I see your mother's face, I feel the cold table they threw me on. Ugh, even now I can feel the straps tightening around my wrists. I need you to talk to this worm, bring him to what ever senses he has left." Peter mocking the low whisper Sylar was using asked, "And what makes you think he'll listen to me?" Sylar stood tall and straight.

"Well, you and this particular worm have worked together before. What if I told you the kidnapper was Hiro Nakamura?"


	2. Chapter 2

_"What if I told you the kidnapper was Hiro Nakamura?"_

When the name escaped Sylar's lips, the images flooded into Peter's mind. But kidnapper? _No! That can't be true_, Peter thought. Hiro did everything he could to save New York. He had gone missing since Election Day, presumed dead. Molly and The Company tried frequently to locate him. But uncertain of whether it would work on time travellers, they really never had their hopes up. Then it struck Peter. He had every reason to trust in someone who was growing to be his friend. Why trust the madman that tried to annihilate Peter and everyone else?

"Look, get bent. Why should I trust sewer trash like you?" Sylar, who never took guff from anyone, soon zipped over to Peter, almost nose-to-nose with him, "When I come to you and bare my fears and troubles, DON'T call me SEWER TRASH! Now, I have been playing nice. I work a normal job again Peter. I went from being on the verge of evolutionary brilliance to babysitting..." Sylar took a deep breathe once he saw Peter's questioning look. He began again, calmer but still with fervor, "Bennett never told you the full extent of my penance, did he?"

Peter shook his head, "Why should he? He told me that you're an animal tagged in a wild jungle. Isn't that enough damage to your ego?" Sylar went back to sitting on the edge of the old bed. "Bennett says that he lets me live, so that I can find true retribution. For the rest of my life, I have to stand vigil over the families of the people I murdered. I switch from one family to the next each week. But I get a small stipend to travel around and watch over those that truly feel the pain of my deeds. Granted some of them had no family to leave behind, but Bennett makes me watch. It's like this Sylar, the re-emerged one, has to be strapped down and watch old Sylar commit each murder over and over again. It's a-hell-of-a form of rehabilitation. That cheerleader's family, the one I first thought was Claire, has never stopped hurting from that loss. And all because I couldn't control my urge for power. I know I _was _trash. But you keep those insults to yourself now. Because my hunger is gone, but not my power...or my temper."

"Sylar, I have no reason or evidence to trust you. You have to provide me with enough reason to actually believe you." The two men sat for a moment. Sylar stood. "You want proof. Fine." Sylar removed his coat. As Sylar lifted the sleeve of his right arm, Peter could barely make out what was abnormal. Slowly it came to his vision in the low light, and as soon as he saw it, he began to feel sick. There on Sylar's forearm was a gauze bandage soaked in blood. But the pattern of blood was shaped in such a way, that it looked almost like an S; a squiggle or a wave, almost. "The little freak carved out a part of my arm with his goddamn samurai sword!" Sylar exclaimed. Peter, though reluctant, looked at the wound again and asked, "How do I know you didn't do that to yourself?".

"BECAUSE THAT WOULD BE NUTS AND I AM NOT **N****UTS**!" Sylar screamed, but cut off at the end. The lights flicked on, and there in the doorway, with her finger still on the light switch, stood Angela Petrelli. The Petrelli matriarch stood in a robe, looking tired but not without her hair looking pristine. She had been up for sometime. "Boys, why don't we go downstairs and finish this discussion over a cup of Earl Grey?"

---------

In the kitchen of the Petrelli mansion, Peter and Angela listened intently on Sylar's love story. He explained to them that he had met Jenny, as was her name, during one of his observations. He had been sitting in a coffee house watching Isaac Mendez' mother sell tapestry on the street. Sylar didn't know what he had done to stick out, but Jenny took notice of him, and sat at his table. The rest, as he says, was history. Sylar continued to go on about her features and just how lucky he was to have her. Eventually his ramblings turned ugly, because now he didn't have her, and Hiro Nakamura would pay for taking her. Angela knew very little of the man known as Sylar, but she never imagined this.

"You are like a school boy with a crush," she quipped. Sylar gave her his icy gaze. "Don't trivialize the one good thing I have in my life," he said with his jaw tightened. "All I mean, Mr. Gray, is that you have gone on and on about loving this girl. But what are you going to do about it? Nathan..." Peter rolled his eyes, "Mom, please this isn't an opportunity for you to tell us what Nathan would do. We need to know what Sylar SHOULD do." Angela, who hated being interrupted, turned quickly to face her son and planted her hands on the marble island. "Please Peter, do not take up rudeness as a hobby. I don't think you can fit it in with all the time you spend feeling sorry for yourself. Sure, Gabriel here is pining stupidly over a woman who can't fend for herself, but at least its active. You sit here, hoping that Nathan will fly in through that window like the bomb happened yesterday." She softly placed her hand on her sons face. "Please, all I want is for you to grow up already. I don't begrudge you, or Nathan, for thwarting our plot for change. But you have to begin to open your eyes. The world is still in a desperate place. And with so many great figures dead, its up to the living to pick up the weight. You have so much potential...so much Peter...please don't let it be too late before you reach maximum potential." Those words. Peter heard the Lancashire accent echo in his memories. A time when Peter had great hope, and a mentor...

Sylar seemed to grow uneasy at the heart-to-heart Peter was having with his mother. He did what any young man instinctively would do in a kitchen with his attention diverted. He went over to the refrigerator and began to rummage through. "Peter, listen to me," Angela snapped. "I am serious about you growing up. While these aren't the most ideal circumstances to begin, I think it would be a good idea if you helped Sylar rescue his girlfriend." Peter's jaw dropped, and Sylar couldn't believe the words either. He turned to look back at the two. "Your mom's right, Peter. This could be a great way to give those powers some practice. Besides, I can't stress enough that I would be lost if I didn't have you to help me." Peter quickly looked from his mother over to Sylar at the refrigerator. "You will say anything to get me to come, won't you?" Sylar could only respond in a last resort sort-of-way, "Do it for true love?"

"First thing is first. I want you to see Dr. Suresh and Mr. Bennett in the morning," she glanced at the clock, "which I guess is in two hours. All right, both of you get upstairs. You can't go chasing a Teleporter around with no sleep." She began to shove the two men out of the kitchen, and while Peter reluctantly went he asked, "You're letting Sylar sleep here?" Sylar smiled and began "That's not necessary. I have a home just..." But he was soon interrupted by the overbearing Angela, "I won't take no for an answer. You both need a good sleep. And in the morning, I'll have waffles waiting for you." This apparently was all that was needed to seal the deal for Sylar. He, more willing than the other, let Angela push them up the stairs and unfold a cot in Peter's room. She closed the door of the room, sealing in the awkward tension between them.

This was not how Peter saw his night going; sharing a room with a reformed, power-hungry serial killer. If his mother was trying to help his insomnia, she was doing a poor job. As the two lay in their respective beds, looking up at the ceiling, Peter couldn't help but ask, "Why would Hiro do this to you? Why now?" Sylar turned his head to face Peter. In a small voice that could barely travel the distance across the room, "Because he sees I have what was taken from him. A person to cherish and hold. One of my victims was Charlene Andrews, a waitress with photographic memory, and he loved her. It's the only reason I can see. But why kidnap Jenny? He had time frozen when he left me this" He lifted his wounded forearm and continued, "He could have easily just killed her while in bed next to me. As I woke up from the pain, he already had Jenny tied up and over his shoulder. Then like that" he snapped his fingers, "he was gone. No time for me to stop him." Peter was beginning to see a new side of Sylar. This side seemed unsure, but still resilient. Sylar had become more human. Peter spoke up in the Sylar's faltering silence, "I'll do my best. Hopefully tomorrow we'll find how good my best can be."

-------------------

_BANG! BANG! BANG! _

Noah had been pounding his fist on the door for 10 minutes now. Angela Petrelli had called the Company's Headquarters in the old Kirby Building that morning. Molly, who worked closely with Noah in monitoring Specials, was still deathly afraid of Sylar. She had locked herself in the women's bathroom and vowed to not come out as long as Sylar was there. Claire turned the corner of the hall, finding Noah with his ear hovering over the door. "Molly, I swear that there are too many of us here for him to overpower. Besides, Sylar is changing for the better."

A soft scream came from behind the door, "Can you promise that he is all the way changed?" Noah smiled, "Well, no. But you are going to find out in this life that there is no such thing as a sure thing..." Claire quickly threw up her hand in Noah's face to silence him. Her eyes burned with disapproval at the way he was consoling the scared girl. Claire turned to face the door, her head angled low. She couldn't hear crying, which was a good sign. "Molly, sweetheart, it's Claire." Molly liked Claire. She admired her as all little girls look up to the cool, older kids. In the past year, the two had become like sisters. Claire softened the shock of Molly losing her family and was always ready with advice. Claire was really most of the reason that Molly could tolerate Noah. If she saw something in him, then he couldn't be that big a meanie.

"Why don't you open the door and let me talk to you?" There was the soft screech of Molly's gym shoes on the tiles, then the soft click of the knob being unlocked. Claire turned the knob and slid in and closed the door quickly in order to stop her father from blurting something crass or mean. He tried, but was unsuccessful. He was now alone and irrelevant. So he turned to get back to his office. Before he disappeared into the elevator, just to get the last word in, he shouted, "Hurry it up! We have a lot of work to get done!"

Back in the bathroom, Claire was sitting on the sink counter opposite Molly. Molly sat slouched looking at her hands. "Why isn't he dead or in jail?" she said. Claire could see this was more than about being afraid. She could see the anger swollen under the surface of Molly's exterior. "Sometimes, we have to remember that we're all human. We have to treat each other fairly and judge each other as we would want to be judged. Now, Sylar has admitted that he sees where he went wrong. He's come to us, looking for help and companionship. If we killed him just because of what he did in the past, we'd be just like him. Evolution is about moving forward, not going in circles. Killing a killer does nothing. Changing a killer is making a difference. Molly, trust me. If that cycle did come back and Sylar did go nuts again, Peter will be here to stop him." Claire smiled to brighten the mood of the troubled Molly. Claire had only heard that Peter and Sylar were on their way, but nothing else. She could barely believe that the two men were on their way to the building; _Together! _When she thought of polar opposites, Peter and Sylar were the definition of it. What would the two of them have in common that they were joined on this visit to Headquarters?

------------------

Mohinder sat silently at his microscope, fuming underneath that Peter had agreed to this mission with Sylar. Mohinder had moved on since the murder of his father, for he knew that in the end Sylar would be judged by a far greater power. He had only hoped that he could bear witness, in the beyond, to see the ultimate fate of his father's killer. For sometime after Sylar's reappearance, Mohinder didn't trust Sylar. But most of those feelings also passed when he saw how willing Sylar was to undergo all these tests. Sylar was fine with occasional blood-lettings and brainwave pattern testings. He seemed to want to find the real answers this time. Not like those days as Zane Taylor, interested only in acquiring more power from unsuspecting victims. Mohinder now appreciated all the help Sylar was, but he never fully forgave. How could he? His father was dead, and so were _so many_ others that Mohinder helped Sylar find. Sylar's sacrifice was a small payment to make, Mohinder thought.

As Mohinder pouted over his microscope, in the other corner of the room, Noah was showing Peter and Sylar a simulation on the computer screen. It was a model of Peter's DNA, adapting and recombining as was how his Empathy worked. Noah had been going on for about an hour now about the hormones, genomes, proteins, nucleotides that all played a part in Peter's power. But despite being a power-sponge, Peter was not an information sponge. Much of it went over his head. "So when you encountered Sylar, the excitement triggers your hormone receptors, while his...you aren't getting any of this are you?" Noah asked as he peered into the empty gaze of Peter.

"Don't worry, I understand what's going on" Sylar interjected. Noah and Peter both turned to him in surprise. "What? It's not much different than a clock. Peter, when you absorb a power, it's connected to an emotion..." A frustrated Peter burst out, "I know that part! Claude went through all this!"

"Right, but it is only connected to the emotion when you absorb it. What Bennett is saying is that once you have absorbed it, you're body does the work in adapting. After that it's all yours. If you concentrate certain powers more often than others, then they get stacked higher on the pile. The ones used less, move farther down the pile. When it's time to absorb a new power, it gets thrown on top and the bottom power is nixed. You have to get the powers out of your emotions, and into your mind. That will prevent another overload."

Noah smiled, "You should try to use some of Sylar's innate ability, Peter. It would come in handy." Peter shook his head, "That's the thing, when I look at stuff I see just that. I haven't absorbed the ability to 'see how things work'! That's such a vague power! And what about all of Sylar's add-on powers? How is it that I can use some, but not all?" Noah began to speak but Sylar quickly butted in "Well, I haven't used all my powers on you. You've only had a reaction to my Telekinesis. You're receptors have adapted to that one alone. We _could_ go up on the roof for a little sparring, if you'd like?" A smirk slowly formed on the dark, unshaven face.

"We need to make sure that the powers inside of Peter stay where they are." Noah said firmly. "If he takes too many of your powers, Peter may not able to use the powers you both need." Noah went to the computer to eject the disk inside and straighten out the files on the counter. He began to give the itinerary of what was to happen next. "Sylar and I are going to map out a game plan. I have arranged for Peter to meet with one of our best teachers. Kaito Nakamura."

As the name was said, the old Japanese man appeared in the doorway. Sylar quickly stood up. That surname made his stomach churn, and he wasn't sure what the father of the kidnapper had to do with anything. When Sylar stood, the room went silent. The tension was thick. Eventually, Kaito slowly entered while speaking, "I assure you, Mr. Gray, that I have not come to stop you, or give you any grief. Just know, that Peter is there to act as a catalyst between you and my son. While I am certain that Hiro has the ability to do away with any threat, if you act as a humanitarian then you should be fine. My son is not unreasonable..."

"Then explain this!" Sylar lifted his arm quickly to show Kaito what Hiro had left there. Kaito began again, "I am sorry that he is acting out in such a way, but if everyman treats his opponent with respect, then every mother's son shall come home when the sun sets." Sylar lifted an eyebrow and chuckled, "Where did you guys pick up this old cuckoo? He needs his spring tightened, to catch up to speed." In a flash, Kaito swept his foot out and under Sylar. With no balance, Sylar began to fall, but Kaito caught him by his right wrist, then while turning him grabbed his left. He now brought both wrists up, standing behind him, Kaito held Sylar against the table. In a calm and somber tone, right in his ear, Kaito said, "Please, listen when I tell you to respect your opponent. I have taught my son many things. If you were to disrespect him, he may act as quickly as I have...without sparing your life." Kaito released Sylar, whose forearm was in far greater pain now.

"All right" Noah Bennett commanded, "Let's all get to work so we can bring a good man home. Peter, you're with Nakamura-sensei. Sylar, come with me."


	3. Chapter 3

Kaito was not going easy on the young Petrelli. They were in a long room, with mats on the walls and on the ground. Peter had almost slipped on his own sweat at least twice. They had been training for a few hours now, and not once had Kaito asked Peter to use his powers. His apprehension over their rustiness was preventing him from advancing on to the next part of his training. "Let go of fear!" Kaito would bark. Peter knew better than to answer back. He remembered what the old man had done to Sylar that morning, and he wanted to make sure he stayed on Kaito's good side. "See only the objective!"

_OK, the objective. And that would be what?,_ Peter thought. His legs were burning from the kicks Kaito made him do. One, two, three, four; Peter was almost dizzy from the continuous roundhouse kicks. Kaito held the clapping target at varying heights each time Peter would reset his stance. But in the middle of him throwing his last kick, Kaito threw the target straight into the air. Without missing a beat of the kicks, Peter floated up bringing his foot across the target, which launched over to the wall. Peter came down with a hard landing. He had flown again. If he hadn't have been breathless from all the exercise, this surely would have taken his breath away.

"Now, I want you to deliver that pad back to my hand, without moving from your place" Kaito said with a small smile at Peter's success. Peter turned to the wall where the target sat and began to concentrate his Telekinesis, when all of a sudden Kaito swept his leg under the unsuspecting Petrelli. When the room stopped spinning into one visible blur, Kaito peeked his head over Peter. "Always be mindful of your surroundings. An opponent will take any opportunity whilst your attention is diverted." The old man reached his hand out to pull up the laid-out student. As Peter got back to his feet, Kaito began to twist Peter's arm behind him, much like he did with Sylar. But Kaito had not accounted for Peter's super-strength and when he countered the old man's attack, Kaito went flying over Peter's head. The teacher was the one laid-out now and he couldn't have been happier about it. "Quite the force to be reckoned with" Kaito muttered from the floor. Peter had never felt so alive, and so worn out.

-----------------

Mohinder couldn't believe what he was seeing. He had taken a sample of blood from the wound on Sylar's arm, but something was not conducive to the story Sylar was telling. The wound had not been created in an instance, as Sylar described. It had been a process that took several minutes. Mohinder had made one small remark about the stories not matching up, and now they were all in a huge uproar. "Get that fat psychic I shot in here to twist my brain around! I don't care!" Sylar was shouting. At the first sign of his temper, Claire and Molly ran off to leave the fighting to the men. Noah was wedged between the two pig-headed young men, holding them apart.

"No one said a bloody thing about your loyalty or your honesty!" Mohinder charged back, "But if you are so defensive about the whole thing, maybe we should be worried. Tell me, Sylar, why didn't you ever bring Jenny in to meet any of us? Perhaps test her DNA? Does she know about your past?" This made Sylar laugh in the doctor's face, so much so that spit was jumping from his lips onto Mohinder, aggravating him more. "'Yeah, Jenny? Nice to meet you. I'm an evolved form of the species who used to hunger for the brains of others like me. I'm past that now. You wouldn't happen to have a superpower, would you?' That would go over really well, you self righteous Papa's Boy!"

"ENOUGH!" Noah commanded. With one great push, he thrust both men back into their respective corners. "We are here to get this matter with Hiro settled. Find out why he has gone rogue, on this stupid vendetta..." Sylar's head twisted around in a whirl of confusion. "Excuse me, 'gone rogue'? Does this mean Hiro has been back, in this timeline, since that night?" Noah sighed out a breathe of disappointment in himself. Lately, he was getting worse at keeping secrets.

"Hiro has been back in the present, almost the entire time since the explosion. He had many adventures over the course of his disappearance, but he returned about a week after he was gone. Despite his growth and gain in experience, his father thought it would be best to keep his return a secret, in case you came out of the wood works, looking for revenge. Hiro has been monitoring the Company's satellite office's around the world, keeping tabs on former trouble-makers, and making sure there has been no disruption to the timeline. He has been invaluable to us, and we want to know why he would trouble himself by going after you."

"I thought all this redemption was to prevent anyone from going after me" Sylar said with his head down in a defeated tone.

Noah had seen tenderness in the dark man before, but Noah would never succumb to it. When Sylar would begin to show some indication of his humanity, Noah would recall that night in Texas: Claire running, drenched in her own blood; her scared, weeping eyes.

"You'll never live a life like an Average Joe. This world is a new and different place with you in it. I'm sorry, I thought it was understood that this life you chose would be the one that you would redeem. And that comes at a great cost. Who knows? Maybe one day, we can emerge from the shadows with our knowledge and all of our abilities. But until that day...we walk the shadowy path together. Gabriel, we forgive you," Noah said softly, "But none of us can ever forget." Mohinder, who had been moved by Bennett's words, realized his own follies. "I'm sorry...Sylar," he admitted. Mohinder extended his hands, and for the first time since Sylar impersonated Zane, the two men shook hands.

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When night had fallen, the Company was still abuzz with preparation. Everyone had regrouped, including the two young ladies. The younger was of great importance now. She and Peter needed to start spending some quality time together. The Company had always had a hard time using Molly to keep track of Hiro. He would appear and disappear from her sight, sometimes she only saw a hazy picture of him. Most times though, he wasn't there at all.

Noah and Mohinder were both excited to get Peter into the lab. They only had the limited resources Mohinder could collect from public records and the Human Genome Project. But now they had the real life specimen in the lab. They could probe the Sponge, and just see how much he could absorb. That wasn't the only possibility Mohinder saw. "Peter," the doctor began with a smile, "I'd like to introduce you to Auxiliary Reflective Manifestation" Peter, along with everyone in the room, furrowed his brow.

"Is that a book or something?"

Mohinder shook his head in an excited fashion. It was a clear sign that he was about to drop an extreme knowledge bomb on the unsuspecting ignoramus that he was educating. "No, it's a theory I developed after first researching you. My father had never thought it possible because an Empath was just a hypothetical possibility. Until there was you, of course." He sat up now, so he could use his hands to illustrate his point. "All right, here is Molly" he said as he lifted his left hand. "Her power works at 100. Now here you are," lifting the right, "mimicking her. But what I propose is that, since you possess the power secondarily, you should act as an amplifier to the primary source." He suddenly clapped and raised his hands higher. "You could boost Molly's power, or any power for that matter. It's not inherent in you, but I believe that with work, we could try it out."

Sylar jumped up from his seat, impatiently saying "We don't have time for this! We need to start tracking that pitiful excuse for a samurai!" Mohinder looked plainly at the hot-tempered Sylar "Unfortunately, Hiro Nakamura is holding the clock. We play by his timetable, and I think we should utilize every moment we have. Now Peter here has a power that is very grey. We need to see his potential so he can stay within his limits." Mohinder stood up from the desk, "I'd like you to sit here with Molly" the doctor indicated next to the little girl sitting on the table.

Peter scooted his chair over to where she was sitting. He sat across from her and looked blankly at her. "What am I supposed to feel?" he asked. Molly shrugged her shoulders, "I dunno. It's not an on-all-the-time kind of thing. I need to be asked to find someone."

"Well, let's start with something easy." Mohinder said softly. Molly hated when he put his little-kid-voice on. "Claire will you go down the hall and wait there?" Dr. Suresh asked. "Now Molly, in a couple seconds, I want you to envision Claire. Just get a good clear image of her."

"I know what to do" the child muttered frustratingly. Molly closed her eyes and there Claire was. As clear as day in Molly's mind. "Now Molly," the doctor began again. "Describe what you see. Not just what Claire is wearing, but really what is around her and what she is doing."

Molly wrinkled her mouth for a moment, exerting just a little bit of effort in seeing the image of Claire. "She is standing with her arms folded. Looking towards the office where we are..." Before she could continue, Mohinder nudged Peter. "Peter, now I want you to clear all your active thoughts and focus on what Molly is saying." The little girl continued. "She is now pulling her hair back, and grabbing..."

"A yellow Scrunchie off her wrist and putting it up" the startled Peter finished. "Ok good." Mohinder said, smiling. "You have the power Peter, but I want you to stay focused on what **Molly** is saying. Let her track Claire. You focus on the tracker."

Molly, still eyes closed, went on. "She is moving over to the bench between the two elevators. The bench is a dark reddish wood." Then all of sudden, as if a great chill came over her, Molly jumped in her place. Her eyes still closed, she began to speak faster. "The bench is 5 ft 6 in long and 2 ft 4.25 in tall. Her jacket is Diesel, her jeans Levis and her shoes are Steve Madden, bought on sale at an outlet mall. The marble floors were manufactured 1945 and installed 5 years later. The latitude is..."

"Thank you Molly" a-now-gleeming Dr Suresh interrupted. "Folks, there you have it. Peter the Back-Up Battery."


	4. Chapter 4

Sylar wanted to burst through the door so desperately. He had been out in the hall waiting for Peter, Molly and Mohinder to give them some information. It had been an hour and not a peep. Claire and Noah sat together on a bench, while Sylar sat slumped against the door. He clenched his fists, fighting the urge to get angry. He just focused on his black pants, examining the stitch work. He made his way down his leg to his boots. Black, like his pants. Laces tied tight and once around his ankles. Jenny always laughed at how he did that. She joked that his shoes were trying to get away from his smelly feet. Then she'd make a sad little face and apologize. He wanted so bad to be touching that face right now. If Sylar wasn't going to get news about Hiro, he at least wanted to know if Jenny was still alive. This feeling in his stomach was almost unbearable! He didn't know which was worse: being without Jenny for this long or being around all these people. People he could never understand; who could never understand him. As the tension boiled inside him, his hearing caught the sound of the elevator moving.

"Some one's coming" his words snapped through the silence. A snap that made Claire jump in her seat. Sylar just smiled. "Still the bad guy" Claire opened her mouth to reply; to say something polite. Sylar put his hand up. "No, you don't have to apologize. I'm just...on edge. Bottling up a lot of aggression. I see no point in winning this fight in a lab. Generations of men have hunted down enemies without the help of little girls with special powers. Why can't Peter and I just take this fight to the streets?" As he asked this, the phantom-elevator operator turned the corner of the hall loudly in her heels. Angela Petrelli stopped when she saw the three slouched in the hallway there. "What's this? Why are you still her Mr. Gray?"

Sylar's eyes grew wide. "Thank you! That's what I said" Noah stood and went over to Mrs. Petrelli, extending his hand. "Good seeing you again Mrs. Petrelli." She, however, did not return the greeting to him, and moved past him to her biological granddaughter. "Claire, honey, shouldn't you be studying, or out with a boy or doing something a girl your age would do? This building is a cold, sterile representation of ...oppressive times. I can't believe..."

Looking at Noah, her pause was pregnant with years of judgment,

"...your father would just ignore your needs..." Claire clashed her sharp tongue against the quick steel of her grandmother. "It's summer vacation. I don't have class, or know any boys in New York. I am part of this building because I want to help. That decision is in my my hands and he knows that. Actually, my father knows more about my needs than anyone on this planet. There isn't a better father alive..." When those words hit Angela, they hit hard. Claire sensed it, and immediately realized her mistake. She was sometimes too brash with her quick wit. She never meant to attack so deep. "I'm...so...sorry"

"It's fine." Angela said, chillingly. "I'm an old broad with tough skin. I know you meant no harm with your words. I'll chalk up your insensitivity to the ignorance of your youth."

Noah, to break the tension of this awkward moment, spoke in the silence. "Dr. Suresh has a theory about your son, Peter. He's trying to use his Empathy as a sort of add-on to other powers. At least, that's how I think it was explained." Mother Petrelli was not pleased. She heaved a sigh and made her way for the door to the lab. Claire and Noah tried to stop her, but no one has ever really been able to stand in her way. She threw the door open, startling Molly, Mohinder, and Peter. Though Peter didn't seem too surprised. The three of them were sitting Indian style on the floor in a triangular formation.

Peter stood up, stretching his very tired legs. As Peter kicked blood back into his legs, he turned to face his mother. "Hi Ma." He read her face clear as day and nodded to confirm her thoughts. "It isn't working. We can't find Hiro. And we can't find Jenny cause neither of us know her." He looked down to Molly, still on the ground. "I'm sorry. I don't think it's your fault. I just can't see how we can look into the past or future to find someone from our present." At the sound of this, Sylar almost jumped out of his skin.

"Has anyone taken into consideration that both Peter AND I can see the future!?" Despite the excitement in his voice, the rest of the room was hesitant to react joyously. Could that really work? Noah stepped forward. "Sylar, that shouldn't be the way we go about this. Looking into the future can be...misleading. It takes all the decision out of it. Instead of fighting for or against something, you just walk the part set for you. It doesn't always work that way. Precognition is, I'm sorry to say, a last resort."

"But if we both take turns viewing the outcome, we both can't be wrong. It would be... the way.. it HAD TO BE." Sylar insisted. "Why don't we do that power boost thingy and get a super-vision?" Now Mohinder was seeing the fault in this plan. He quickly interrupted. "That wouldn't work. It would be like running the same program on two separate CPU's. Their similarities wouldn't affect their respective performances. Actually, in this allegory, if you linked the CPU's they would work in divergence with each other."

His analogy had lost the crowd. He sighed softly and sat down offering layman's term. "The two would butt heads, perhaps causing irreparable damage."

Sylar collected his emotions. Then, with common sense in his tone, "Don't you think we would learn a lot more than we have in the past hour?" No one spoke to it. He had a point. Peter spoke up. "I trust it could teach us a few small things. Not necessarily the big, complete situation. Isaac's paintings saved New York; and Claire." Noah raised his eyebrows. Slowly nodding his head and taping his finger, thoughtfully Noah said. "Painting is another story all together. Professor Suresh had his experimentation time. It's my turn." Noah turned to Claire.

"Claire, get two notepads and pencils out of the reception desk at the end of the hall. Make sure there good-n-big. Peter sit over there. Sylar there." Bennett nodded to two sides of the lab table in front of him. The two men complied. Once Peter and Sylar had their tools, Noah slowly and calculatingly said. "At the end of all this, when you come back here: What do you see?"

The two sat for a moment. They mulled it over: here, but not; mission accomplished; returned home victorious. But did the future hold victory for them? The train of thought set the trance in motion. Both Peter and Sylar's heads floated up, lightly extending their neck. Their pale eyes gazed at the blank canvas, as they saw molding structures form in front of them. Peter's hand worked in quick juts up and down; right and left. Fast and calculated, his hand moved across the paper. Sylar's pencil danced from one side of the paper to the other. He seemed to be working the edges in, to a center focal point. The others waited in apprehension.

After about 5 minutes, impatience set in and it was Molly who first went to look. She stood behind Peter in his chair, and soon Claire followed. Then Mohinder and finally Noah. Angela just sat calmly in her place. This method of accomplishing a goal was ludicrous to her. Those paintings created by Isaac had always given her the creeps. It was Linderman who insisted that they use them as a road map to accomplishing what they thought had to be done. Now Linderman was dead and so was Nathan. She definitely wanted no part in this sketch-fest.

It was Peter who had finished first. He dropped his pencil in the moment of awakening. Slowly his eyes took focus on the pad in front of him. A landscape and an eclipse. The bright eclipse held great focus off in the horizon, to the right. The rest of the drawing was occupied with buildings. One marvel stood out amongst the rest. It had four small towers, tight to it's almost perfect square facade. Peter began to examine the scene. None of this was helpful. He began to get frustrated with everything, until he saw IT. A silhouette, two people. A man holding a woman. They are standing on the roof and...to Peter it looks like the man is doing all the standing. He is holding her, like a duffel bag under his arm. There was nothing romantic about it. In the trance, it seems that Peter went to the trouble of putting the girl's skirt pattern in; polka dots. He huffed in surprise. Maybe this was more of a clue than he thought.

The others began to crowd him a little as he examined the roofs. Hunched over him, Molly asked quizzically "What's it supposed to be? Is that an eclipse?" Claire and Noah were stumped. Mohinder spoke up. "That's the Charminar," referring to the magnificent structure with four towers. Everyone turned to him. "What?" he defended, "It's a monument in Hyderabad. It's just north of Chennai. I spent a semester there in my graduate studies. Anyone can recognize the Charminar. It was constructed in 1591 to commemorate the end of the plague in that region of India." he sighed. To them he sounded crazy, when these were all well-established facts. Mohinder added this moment to the long list of instances where he felt under appreciated.

Noah shook his head and turned to move back to his seat at the computer. "This seems too easy. Like it was just handed to us."

At this point, while everyone was deep in thought, Sylar let out a scream. It was of surprise, astonishment and disappointment fused in one. The group of people still huddled around Peter quickly moved over to the opposite side of the table. There, in his hand, Sylar held a portrait of himself; lifeless and with no emotion. They all had assumed that, like Isaac Mendez, Sylar had just drawn his death. But it gave no indication as to how or why. Claire saw something in the figure's hand. While the rest of him had no life whatsoever, his hand was clutching a piece of fabric very tightly.

"Look in the left hand."Claire said sternly, "Some torn piece of fabric. It's looks almost like the same pattern the girl in Peter's drawing is wearing. Could this be a clue about Jenny?" Sylar got up from his seat to get his own glance at Peter's drawing. Once he saw it, he shook his head."That can't be Jenny. She has long blond hair. Unless...the top of her head is gone..." Peter, shook his head. "That's not what I saw. I can't remember everything from the vision, but her head wasn't sliced off. She had short hair."

"Do you remember who the man holding her is?" Sylar asked. Peter thought. He shook his head. "No, I can't see him. It's like in a dream. You can't see the person's face, or it's different. You know who they are, they feel familiar but it's not them in front of you. This person holding the girl, he feels very familiar."

Mohinder, who had snuck over to a computer, asked for everyone's attention, "Listen to this: I did a search for 'Hyderabad' and 'solar eclipse'. While the first few results are about a partial solar eclipse set to happen later this year, there is one entry here that talks about a total solar eclipse that happened in February of 1980. Peter, your vision is set 29 years in the past."

Peter and Sylar's eyes widened. Sylar turned his head slowly from Mohinder to Peter. His eyebrows lifted as he slowly opened his mouth to speak. "Um, Peter...Can you do that? I mean, I know technically, yes, you have Hiro's power...but can you do that?" Peter sat for moment. Can I?, he thought.

"Well, I won't allow it." Noah firmly stated. "It's too great a chance that something could go wrong. Bending space is one thing, bending time is anoth..." Mohinder interrupted "Actually..." But Noah took it right back "IT's too risky! No matter the physics behind it, the timeline could be altered. For now, you boys get ready to go to Hyderabad. Present day Hyderabad. If Hiro really is keeping Jenny in 1980, then you wait in the present for him to bring the fight to you."


	5. Chapter 5

Peter's eyes opened with a start. He shot up from his laying down and surveyed his surroundings. _Rooftop garden of Mr. Deveaux's building? How did I wind up here again?_ Peter thought. _Unless..._ He slowly stood up. Walking out from the little glass shack, there sat Mr. Deveaux. This time there was no 'Past Peter'. Just the two of them. Charles, sitting in his wheelchair, was facing out towards the city. The Sun was setting over the horizon. "Hello again, old friend," the spectral Deveaux said.

Peter walked out to him. "Hey. How did I get here?" Charles turned his wheelchair around to face Peter now. He smiled, "You came for guidance. In reality, you are asleep in an alley behind a market in Hyderabad. But for right now, you are safe with me here." Peter went over to the patio furniture overlooking New York and took a seat. As he began to wheel over to the young Petrelli, Charles said, "So, what's the news? How is the hunt for Hiro going?" Peter's lips twisted in an uncomfortable way. "It's not going. Sylar and I sat in the main square last night, scanning for clues. He was listening to voices, I was listening to thoughts. All of it in foreign languages and getting us no where." Charles smiled. Peter seemed so funny to him when he felt defeated. "Why are you smiling?" Peter asked suspiciously.

"Because you're fighting with yourself. You have all the power you need, but no belief. All I can tell you for right now Peter is that you are very close to the edge. You and Sylar have a veil draped over you. Strangers in a strange land need to stand perfectly still for the hat to drop." Peter laughed. "That's your guidance! Can you at least tell me if I am on the right track?"

"Peter, the forces pulling you down this track were never right. But you are going to get there come-Hell-or-high-water. When the last move is to be made, I trust you'll make the right decision. Won't you?" Peter just shook his head. "You'd know better than I would, Charles. You'd know better." And with that, the world started to dissolve. Blackness slowly enveloped the sights around Peter, and once it was all gone, he realized his eyes were closed.

----------------------

He opened his eyes with some hesitation. The Sun was beating down on the two adventures who sat back-to-back. Sylar was still asleep and snoring loudly. Peter sat in place, scanning the foreign alley and sweating profusely.

With GPS to tell them right or wrong, they teleported 36 times. By the time they reached anywhere near Hyderabad, both of their nerves were fried. Peter felt that a transatlantic jump was beyond him. Sylar kept telling him that his uncertainty would be what would get them lost. Finally after a few security scares, they reached the outskirts of the city. The Indian night gave no indication to how hot it would get to be in the day.

Peter began to stand, causing Sylar to wake suddenly. He had been suffering from nightmares all night. His fear was that Jenny was already dead. Scenarios played out in his dreams the whole night through. Always too late, and always missing the top of her skull. Sylar figured that his subconscious was placing responsibility on himself. Charlie Andrews died suddenly and gruesomely; it would only be right if Hiro cut Jenny's head off too. Sylar shivered with the thought. He slowly stood up and stretched. "What's the story? We go back to the town square?" Sylar asked, with the aching of his joints in his voice. Peter shrugged his shoulders and widened his eyes. "Do you have a better idea?"

Sylar detected the frustration in Peter's voice. "Calm down. I've been awake for about 30 seconds. Save the frustration for when we actually _try_ to get something done." Peter replied with a quick, "Sorry." He didn't know which was getting to him more: the pressure of this mission or the heat. His recollection of his odd dream wasn't any help either. His visit to Charles Deveaux had only made his feelings about this rescue turn in his stomach.

"Let's just sit in the square..." Petrelli began, but Sylar was quick to give his plan "I think we should start applying some pressure to the locals. Think about it: a Japanese guy with a samurai sword in the heart of India. Someone had to have seen him at some point." Peter shook his head. He knew that if Hiro didn't want to be seen, no one would ever catch a glance at him. "Let's just take it slow for right now."

The two made their way out the alley. The city was alive with people hurrying along. They trudged along the sidewalk, the weight of exhaustion still on them. To say they stuck out would be an understatement. The two New Yorkers shuffling their feet were a far cry different from the local residents, hurrying to their jobs and other places to be.

When they got to the avenue surrounding the outdoor market, their hearts dropped. Last night, not many people were out. But, now, at 9 am it was bustling like a no-hold-barred Time Square. The pavement was possessed by mini-cabs, scooters, dirt bikes and pick up trucks traversing at top speeds. There didn't seem to be a cross walk painted. There didn't seem to be ANYTHING painted: no lane markers; no speed limits; and no signals.

The two sat stunned for a few seconds, until Sylar snapped to attention. "Float us up over it." Peter turned with a spiteful expression.

"Why does everything boil down to using our powers to you? We can just cross it. Ever been in Manhattan when the Knicks game lets out?" Peter's foot made motions, seeming to move forward but failing to really do that. He gulped the tension down, facing the endless wave of vehicles. As soon as he actually made the step into the street, a passerby honked instantaneously. Peter launched back onto the curb. "OK. We'll go invisible and float over."

At the perfect moment when no one seemed to be looking at the obvious tourists, they went invisible. Peter lifted off the ground with perfect ease. Flying was much like dancing, in that you led with yours hips. His feet just floated up like fish in water. As Peter was getting off the ground, he put his hands under Sylar's armpits. The two made it over the street, and still invisible, began to move around the market. The market was not like either of them had imagined. Both of them sheltered children, they never imagined an outdoor market in the midst of a metropolitan area. The street, which was an obstacle easily overcome, was like a moat around a peninsula. The market was surrounded on three sides by it.

Peter began to scan the heads of as many people as he could. Sylar kept his attention on whispers. The two split up and moved around the area. Peter decided it was time to get ambitious. He was going to try to out Molly Walker's power as he used Parkman's. Taking deep breathes, he focused on his memories of Hiro Nakamura. Trying to keep his emotions and distractions in check, the thoughts coming in were taking new shapes. The perception in his head seemed to give the 'voices' direction. Peter 'saw' where each piece of information was coming from. Like a scrapbook or a book of photos, Peter scanned each person around him, seeing their face and hearing their thoughts. Without understanding the words, he began to understand the meaning behind some of the thoughts. This seemed odd to Peter. How was that possible? Then he remembered his company: Sylar. The invisible Peter smirked. Four powers being used all at once and not one sign of overloading. This accomplishment only lent to his confidence and that ensured safer power usage. Peter didn't need a dream tell him he was on the right track to controlling his powers.

Walking through the crowd, he took in all the information he could. To-do lists, secrets, names, addresses; all of it pouring in like a fountain. It occurred to him that this was still getting them nowhere, but somehow he was becoming familiar Then the familiar voice of his partner interrupted, "Pete, I think I found something."

-----------------------

Sari was only 16 years old when he ran away from home. That was two years ago. Two long years of rooftops and running through alleys, avoiding cops. Sari, who had grown to be a very good thief, enjoyed his life for the most part. Being independant was no problem for him, but occasionally it did get lonely. Today was a normal day. But recently, normal days were getting stranger. He had recently discovered something about himself.  
A few weeks ago, he found himself yearning for some sweets. Past dark, behind the bakery, he and his lock pick set had been diligent in trying to open the back door. Unfortunately, there was no success after an hour and a half. Thinking hard about the lock, he anticipated the sound of hearing that click. Moving the pins in his hands back and forth, he was set to give up. Then the lock opened. Just like that. Sari was sure that it was just dumb luck. But in the pure joy of his accomplishment, the door swung open. _That_, he thought, _couldn't be dumb luck_.

Since that day, Sari would spend his time testing his connection to the world around him. His new ability seemed to correlate to metal objects in his vicinity. He concentrated on any object around him, and only the metal ones seemed to respond. Today, he was practicing with a scrap of someones muffler and the wall behind an office. He had just finished a loaf of bread and was crouched behind some boxes getting shade in an alley. Pressing the scrap against the wall as hard as he could, he was carving his name. Sari stared at the wall like a surgeon, his light brown eyes shaded by his messy hair.

Since he was so concentrated on the task in front of him, he could have no idea that Sylar was witness to his graffiti, from the start. For Sylar, seeing was believing and knowing. He knew what he was watching and he liked it. While murder was not on his mind, the thrill of uncovering a new point on the map was making his heart race. He stood about 50 yards back, hiding behind a stack of cardboard boxes bunched together. He made sure to think really hard to get Peter to that spot. He also made sure that Peter was quite when he approached.

"I think we should go over and talk to him" Sylar whispered. Peter, now leaning back against the wall, whispered, "And say what? What does this kid have to do with anything?" Sylar laughed, "Peter, haven't you realized that _WE, _with powers, are all connected? This is another part to the puzzle"

Peter knew that Sylar had a point. Finding more people like them had to be a sign of some sort. He still didn't know what Sylar had in mind. "OK," Sylar began, obviously still thinking of a plan. "Um...OK, just follow my lead." Peter rolled his eyes and watched Sylar start towards the boy. In other situations, he would be mad that he was left in the dark, but he remembered that he could read minds. Once inside Sylar's head, it was clear to him that Sylar had no plan and he was, in fact, left in the dark.

"Excuse me," Sylar yelled, approaching Sari. Sari, surprised, dropped the scrap of metal. His feet began to side step away from the strangers. "No, no, no. Its ok. We're not here to hurt you." Sari slowed his pace. He thought that perhaps he could squeeze some change out of these Americans. "We just need to ask some questions about our friend." _Ah, information,_ thought Sari, _this could pay off_. Now standing in front of the teen, Sylar saw the major height difference. He looked down the 5 inches to the boy and said softly, "We know that you are special, so are we." Sari became a bit more visibly skeptical. This "special" business was very new to him, and he could hardly believe there were more like him. But then, he had never really given it any thought until now.

Sylar stuck out his hand to shake, "I'm Sylar. This is Peter. We've both been searching for a friend who went on an adventure, and he may be in over his head." Peter soon followed behind Sylar and waved to the dirty street-dweller. "Hi" he said nervously. Sari looked skeptically at the two men.

"Who is your friend?" the boy spoke up. Sylar and Peter looked to each other. When they looked back to the boy, his hand was stuck out, very plainly saying, _Pay me_. The two, squandered into their pockets for whatever they could find. Peter pulled out a $5 bill, but with it still bunched in his hand, held it up. "Answer our question, and this is yours. Have you seen a man who can teleport around here?" Sari answered with a quick "No" and jumped to grab Peter's hand. He pried the fingers open, and saw the American currency. "Hey! You tricked me!"

"Alright, fine." Sylar mediated. "How about this:" Sylar pursed his lips in thought. "We can pay for your meals, if you help us around the city" Free meals sounded appealing to Sari. He was confident that these men weren't creeps, at least no worse than the creeps he encountered everyday. "OK, I'll do it. But we have to go get some food right now. No more tricking Sari."

Peter and Sylar smiled and nodded in excitement. "So Sari is your name?" Peter asked. The boy nodded, shaking some dirt out of his hair. Sylar asked, "How do you speak English so well?" The boy smiled now, "Because I help clueless tourists all the time." The three of them took a couple seconds to let the ice break and laugh at the joke. This felt like it was going to be a great addition to the cause. "Now we have a much better chance at finding Hiro." Peter turned and said to Sylar. Sari quickly looked to Peter and as he did Peter could hear the boy's thoughts react; _Super Hiro? _


	6. Chapter 6

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

Peter and Sylar were having a very hard time understanding Sari. They had found a small restaurant in the city where Sari was getting his stomach filled. They sat outside under a blue canopy on wooden seats. The two were desperate to find out as much information as they could get. But the hungry homeless teen was shoveling rice into his mouth; making his question answering difficult.

"Two months" Sari answered a second time, with a hail of rice falling back onto his plate. Sari had met Hiro two months ago, much like his run in with Sylar, unexpectedly. Hiro had visited Sari three or four times since their first meeting. One of those times he brought food with him. Sari liked Hiro, without being buttered up with food. Sari had traversed most of the city, and Hiro was trying to find some dangerous parts of it. He never told Sari exactly why he was there, just that it was something very secret. Hiro didn't divulge too much information for fear, he said, that Sari's involvement would get him killed.

"In the two months you've known him, Hiro never let you know he could teleport?" Sylar asked. Sari shrugged his shoulders, "I don't know. He told me he could freeze time, but I didn't believe him. I thought he was one of those nice people who was crazy. I just nodded my head," Sari said as he nodded more rice everywhere, "and smiled." His eyes brightened suddenly, he began to slap his hand on the table like Thumper from _Bambi_ and jump in his seat. "He knew this whole time! He knew about my power! I'm special! I am not alone, he said!"

The two men tucked their seats away from the table giving Sari a "Huh?" expression. Sari exclaimed loudly, "Hiro told me that I was special. I didn't know about my power back then. I almost forgot about that conversation." He laughed at himself. "I was having a very sad day, and Hiro found me crying. He told me that I wasn't alone, that I wasn't the only 'special' person. He told me about his gift...but wait. How could he have known that I was special before _I knew_ I was special?"

Sylar's heart jumped a bit. When the topic of 'The List' came up in his mind, it pulled in memories of his darker days. He was also afraid that bringing up 'The List' meant that he would have to talk about his great hunt for power. He liked Sari and wanted the boy to know him without knowing about his murderous past. "Well Sari," Peter began "There was a geneticist who believed in people like us. He developed a way to find as many of us as he could. That geneticist is..." Peter looked to Sylar, whom he could tell wasn't enjoying himself. "Well, anyway his son continues his research, and Hiro probably got your name from there."

Sylar, trying to get the topic back to the mission at hand, asked "Did Hiro ever mention a girl? Someone he was bringing to Hyderabad...?" Sari leaned back, rubbing his stuffed stomach. He slowly shook his head and looked around. Suddenly he remembered "I do remember him talking about a Charlie, which I thought was a man's name in your country, but he said she was a very beautiful woman. She was killed by a terrible man. I felt bad for poor Hiro, he was such a nice guy. I'll definitely help you save him." Sylar looked down into his tea. _Just a few white lies..._, he thought to himself.

"The last time I saw him was last week. He asked a few questions about smaller streets on the south side. I followed him to a building down there because...actually I have no reason, I just had nothing better to do, I guess. The building was pretty scary, but I saw Hiro going into a side door. I will take you there. For Hiro."

-------------------------------

An hour later, the three of them were across the street from a gray building that looked abandon. The streets here were not as populated as they were in the center of town. The populace here was more down-trodden. People resembling Sari seemed to sit, without hope, staring into nothing. None of them had the spark that Sari had in his eye. They were all nearly lifeless. The building had cracks and segments of plaster missing. It climbed 10 stories into the sky, towering most of the buildings on neighboring blocks. The front door was boarded up with two planks forming an X.

But as Sari had said, Hiro had gone in through the side door. Whatever was inside, was a big secret. Peter wasn't feeling very good about this. How were they to get any information about this mysterious building without giving themselves away?

"You need to go in there invisible, Peter." Sylar said sternly. Peter looked at Sylar like he was crazy. "Oh that's your bright idea? 'Peter, you go in there'. Yeah, right, Sylar. We need to think of--"

"The top!" Sari interrupted. Peter smiled at the boy, "You're going to have to be a little more specific."

"I snuck into see Mission Impossible 2 a while ago. And I saw the first one years ago. What do they both have in common?" he quizzed the two. Seeing that they weren't going to get the answer, he sighed out, "Tom Cruise breaks in through the top."

"What about in the third movie?" Sylar asked.

"I don't know, I haven't found it on bootleg yet." Sari shrugged.

Peter, still smiling, was enjoying the simplicity of the boy's plan. "Sari, this is a little different. We have no idea whats in this dilapidated building. This isn't CIA headquarters. We may just need to be patient."

Sylar was afraid that Peter would say that; 'patient'. Sylar looked Peter square in the eye, and in two four-letter words, let him know that Sylar was done being patient. As soon as the 'F' sound began to roll off his lips, he stood up and started across the street. _Well, this is it then,_ Peter thought. "No need to let him get in trouble by himself. Wait here." Peter said as he began to go after Sylar.

"Fu-" Sari began to imitate. Peter quickly cut him off. "Leave this to us. This is a very murky situation. We didn't come to rescue Hiro. We came to rescue someone _FROM_ Hiro. He kidnapped Sylar's girlfriend and we figured out that he came here."

"You tricked me?" a hurt Sari said.

"No," Peter shook out quickly. "You don't understand. We were under the assumption that Hiro was missing. Then he comes out of thin air, kidnapping this girl. We know it's against his character. That's most of the mystery that we want to uncover; the 'Why?' behind it. I promise that we don't want to do any harm to Hiro. Our mission is to bring Jenny and Hiro home."

"So you aren't enemies of Hiro's father?" the boy asked. But Peter had already began to move, missing the question. Sylar was dangerously close to doing something stupid, and Peter knew he was going to need back up.

"Sylar? Sylar!" Peter shouted after the very firm standing Sylar. Once the two men were lined up next to each other in front of the grungy building, Peter asked, "What do we do now?" Sylar, slowly turning his head, smiled at Peter. His head was tilted ever so slightly, making his eyes very dark. His eyes were dark like they were one long November, years ago. "Well, Pete, I think we should open the door."

And in a flash, Sylar whipped his hand up, bringing the boards over the doors right off. _This_, Peter thought, _was what I was afraid of_. The two walked up the seven stairs in the front of the building, passing through the threshold. Dark, empty and moldy; as expected. Windows were sparse and light blocked by countless planks, horizontally slated up the walls. It looked like a lobby. Two doors were on each of the perpendicular walls, facing a master staircase in the center of the foyer. The staircase split into two directions at the landing, leading to the overlooking second story. Sylar counted seven doors total on the second floor, and one of them he knew was about to reveal an angry resident.

Just as his ears had heard, a tall man came barrelling out of one of the doors directly across from Pete and Sylar. He stood 6 and a half feet and was dressed in a black leather jacket and blue jeans. His curly black hair came down to his broad shoulders and his olive toned face sported a Euro-trash goatee.

"You know what, Peter?" Sylar began mockingly, "This has to be the wrong place. I think the homeless shelter is down the street."

This obvious opponent just stood at the landing, smiling. Gritting his yellow teeth, he said "Must say, no one expected you to use the front door. All our guys are camped out at the roof entrance and the side door. Anyways, I have to deliver you two and there is no doubt you're going to make it difficult. So, I will begin with an introduction and then go right into my piece."

Peter and Sylar had never encountered something so strange. They were used to face-offs, but never one like this. The grizzly man cleared his throat, "My name is Stephen. But all my close friends call me Tilt. Since we all go way back, please feel free." With that he took a deep breathe, extended his arms and brought Hell on our Heroes.

The floor seemed to jolt out from under them, at the same time as the walls twisting underneath them. Whoever Tilt was, he was very good at making people feel very sick. The room turned like a dryer, back and forth. Sylar and Peter were quick to fall to their knees, but they only screamed out of shock. They fought the vertigo for as long as they could, but slowly they began to sink to the ground. Their arms no longer able to hold them up, slowly began to bend.

Then from outside, like an eagle, a trash can flew into the room. Quick and precise, the can was delivered right to the cranium of the assailant. Tilt fell back, having the trash spill out onto his unconscious body. Sari entered through the doorway, like a proud Superboy. He bended down on one knee between the laid out Americans. "So, can I help or not?"

-----------------

The three ventured further through the door that Tilt had come out from. The dark corridor smelled of rotting plaster and the floor creaked with every cautious step. Doors lined the hall on either side, and when they reached the end of a hall, they saw they had two choices: left or right. Both Sylar and Peter 'stretched' their senses in both directions. In unison they blurted, "Left."

"You know, they are probably waiting for you." Sari plainly stated. Peter nodded, "We'll be ready for them." Peter maintained an air of composure on the outside, but inside he couldn't help but think, _Who the Hell is 'them'?_

At the end of this hallway, they found an old wooden door. They grasped the rusty handle, and swung it open quickly. The door's hinges gave out, causing the door to fall over. The room looked uninhabited. Just a bare floor with a window on one wall, obviously boarded up. Across from them was a wide double-slide panel door.

"From they way Tilt," Sylar began, but not without a laugh at the ridiculous name, "made it sound, it's not news that we're here." Peter lifted his eyebrows, as to ask Sylar to elaborate his point. "Well, we have to be close to whatever it is we are about to discover. I say we barrel through. What was the term you use? Oh, right, 'powerhouse.' I like that option."

As Peter mulled it over, a slow beat began to pick up it's rhythm. The three in the room noticed it, but since it's power and speed were picking up, the sense of danger confused them. Suddenly, the panel doors burst open as a giant steel man broke forth. He was giant. If Tilt was considered big, this man was considered massive.

As the dust cleared and the ringing in their ears settled, the three were speechless. This man wasn't just sporting extreme proportions. His armor was shiny steel, and from the looks of it very sharp. He possessed a chest plate, shoulder guards, forearm and bicep covers, and leg gear; all of which serrated and pointy.

"You two..." the giant began. Suddenly, he noticed Sari standing there almost as if he were a smudge on his shiny armor. With three pounding steps he approached the 18 year old. Sari gulped in his anxiety. The giant smiled in Sari's face. "You scared, boy?" Sari nodded quickly.

This caused the giant to began an uproar of laughter. His armor shook as he held his bare stomach under his chest plate.

Before Sari could blink or think twice, the titan swung his metal arm toward the teen. But Sari instinctively 'caught' it with his power. With his arm stuck in place, the glimmering giant grimaced. He was not about to be bested by a boy. He quickly lunged his head forward, headbutting Sari to the ground.

Now, it was Peter and Sylar who acted fast. Together, they swept the behemoth back with their Telekinesis. Flying back only 4 feet, and still on his feet, the metal monster smiled again.

"This is the fight I have been waiting for."

With a jump, he moved his feet into a fighting stance. Peter and Sylar quickly followed suit. The steel titan began to spin in place, slowly lifting his arms. Faster and faster he started to turn. His arms were finally stiff, and in the blur of his movement, he resembled a propeller. He started to move towards Sylar and Peter, though they were fast to react to his quick advance. But as they moved behind him, they couldn't foresee his next move. He quickly brought his arms together, swinging them overhead, bringing them back down into the floor where Peter barely escaped from. Lifting out of the debris, he started to spin again.

_Peter, draw his attention up. Make him swing up._ Sylar projected to the Empath. Peter, crouching low as to avoid the blades on this man's arms, sprung up fast and took off. He began to circle the opposition. The overgrown knight stopped in his tracks. He seemed to have lost track of Sylar, and now this fairy was flying. He swung his arms, one after the other, trying to swat the flying Petrelli out of the air. Then from the shadows Sylar vaulted to land onto his opponent. Now with both of his hands placed on the giant's bare sides, Sylar activated his Radioactive power. His hands glowed bright with the heat, and his enemies skin began to smoke and smolder. He screamed in agony as his eyes bulged from his leather face.

In a harsh but expected reaction, the mammoth brought his elbows down, catching Sylar in the shoulders. Sylar was brought to his knees and in that instance the halted tornado kicked him back. Still simmering from the radiation burn, he began to pant. Now fuming mad as well as fuming from his sides, the giant-gladiator glanced up at a Peter, who was floating but not moving. The man's giant steps boomed throughout the building. He let out a battle cry to kill this fly, but when he started to raise his arms, his battle cry became a cry of anguish.

Sylar had singed the muscles linking his arms to his torso, rendering his arms useless. Now he was a fish in a barrel. Peter lifted his finger menacingly, and cut the giant's hamstrings. Through more screaming, he was brought to his knees. Now Peter remembered his training from the day before, and on the face of his opponent saw his kick target. One two three four; his kicks landed harshly on the cheeks of the  
weeping Goliath. Slowly, as a triumphant tree falls in the forest, this disabled steel warrior hit the ground.

"ENOUGH!!!!!"

This voice seemed to emanate from the walls. It's reverberation shook so furiously, it startled Sylar from his daze. Peter went over to Sylar who was against a wall. Helping him up, the two surveyed the room trying to find the source.

"COME IN HERE, BOYS"

Somehow, without really having a direction, the voice seemed to be coming from the room behind the current one. Stepping over the busted panel doors, Peter and Sylar couldn't believe their eyes. The massive room was a mausoleum to the library it once was. The walls had bookcases that climbed up to the ceiling. At the end of the room, stood a coffin. It seemed more like a crate, but it's size was that of a person. Inside its hollowness, stood a black, crispy mummified body. Something about it though, made Peter feel queasy. Worse than any scar carved on an arm.

The eyes in the mummy glistened; with life.

"WELCOME," the voice boomed. "YOU WEREN'T SUPPOSED TO BE STANDING ON YOUR OWN FREE WILL BY THE TIME YOU REACHED THIS POINT." A smile crept across the crusty face of the mummy. "BUT YOU TWO ARE FULL OF SURPRISES. I GUESS I AM TO BLAME FOR THAT."

Thoughts and questions raced through their heads. With a world of confusion to distract them, neither Peter's Telepathy or Sylar's super-hearing could hear the footsteps of Tilt behind them. Instantly, they dropped down to their knees; the world thrown into disarray. With his hands on each of their heads, Tilt smiled. "I think it's safe for you to come out of the shadows now, friends."

Vision fading, Peter and Sylar noticed a figure approach from the corner. Black trench coat swaying, sword drawn, Hiro Nakamura stood there in front of them. Sylar, panting in fury like an animal screamed, "You little worm! What have you done with Jenny? She better not be hurt, or so help me..."

"Me?" a woman's voice interrupted. "I couldn't be better, now that you're here, baby." Slowly the source of the sultry voice walked from behind the coffin to be before the two helpless heroes. Sylar couldn't believe it. The woman he loved was standing before him, smirking as he felt his insides want to come out. He wanted to die. For the first time, Sylar felt helpless under the scorn of the one he held closest to his heart. He came a long way to save her, only to find he was a fool.

"A trap? You tricked me? For what?" Sylar exclaimed in disbelief.

"At first it was because you took an innocent man who was going to save this world. Chandra Suresh was like a father to me. You tried your hand at me. Then when I had heard you took the life of the painter, Isaac, I knew you had to be eradicated. Along the way, I met Raziel. He promised me your lifeless body and all I had to do was lead you to him."

"How could I not have seen this coming? I fell for it. How?"

The woman he formerly knew as his girlfriend knelt down to hover over Sylar, who was now laid out on his back. Her full lips curled into a smile. She raised her hand up to her full head of blonde hair and pulled the wig off. It dropped down into her lap, caught by her polka dot skirt. The look of horror on his face was almost as if it were sculpted there; hard and definite.

She scratched her short, brown hair furiously as to relieve the itch. "Sweet Gabriel, it was as easy as getting a dog to beg. I had you obey every one of my commands."

Sylar, still sick from the vertigo, was now blank as a wall. He was expressionless for the utter confusion had thrown him for a whole new type of whirlwind.

"I saw you kill yourself." he whispered, under his panting breathe.


	7. Chapter 7

_**Douglas Harbor, New York: 1981**_

They walked three by three; Raziel in the center, his gang surrounding him. The Black Sun Gang had just arrived in America. This was where they planned to expand and make it big. They had terrorized small towns and villages throughout Asia and the Middle East for decades. Fear of Raziel stemmed from his vampyric ability of absorbing the life force of others. Not only their life, but their power as well. People with abilities were whom Raziel was most interested in. The Black Sun followed him in fear. Children, when they were found, grew accustomed to their lives of crime. They would get their hands dirty for Raziel, just to thank him later for being given the opportunity.

He had lived nearly a hundred and fifty years, feeding off of others and taking their power. That was what Raziel fully understood: what real power was. Raziel had started to feel industrious in these years. The buzz of Reaganomics and the hype being fed to him by a friend brought hope that he could actually make a fortune. The abilities of others wasn't enough now. He knew that in this day and age, money was power.

This friend was more of an acquaintance who became very lucrative for Raziel. He owned many businesses and casinos around the nation, and wanted to bring Raziel in for consultation. Raziel's years of experience would prove a great asset to Daniel Linderman, since Raziel watched Yamagato Industries get built from the ground up. Everyone knew that The Linderman Group suffered great losses to the Japanese efficiency of Yamagato.

Raziel and his crew were now on their way to the hotel Linderman had set up for them to stay in. Their voyage across the Atlantic was a long one, but they went undisturbed. One of Raziel's gang members was a storm summoner, and made sure there were clear skies for the entirety of the voyage. The eight members of the Black Sun were varied and deadly at what they did. They were (in no particular order): Brass Knuckles, Tilt, Cloud, Shift, Maximus, Thorn, Bug and White Widow. Each of them was willing to kill or be killed in the name of their malacious crime family.

Raziel was no fool. His powers were not limitless, but he had acquired enough power to become the mightiest of opponents. One of his many abilities was his Hyperawareness. His ability to sense danger was bar-none -- and at the end of the harbor, he knew danger was waiting. Raziel had done battle with Kaito Nakamura in Kyoto, Japan at the turn of the 20th century and was prepared to battle again.

Back then, Raziel exploited the people and withheld oil from them. Kaito, being quite the crusader, drove the menace out, but did not defeat him completely. Raziel went on to victimize cities in China. Kaito's victory was a small one in his eyes. So the vendetta would be settled here and now. Tonight Kaito and his friends meant to put another bad person into the history books. They knew that this vampire would only do more and more harm with Linderman as a backer.

Now at the end of the dock with no Kaito and Co. in sight, Raziel sent White Widow and Bug to investigate the immediate area. White Widow, a tall, slender Moroccan woman, concentrated for a moment and assumed her role as a cloud of noxious gas. Everyone in the gang was now immune to her ability, much like Marines are forced to develop an immunity to tear gas. The real deadliness of her power was that she resembled fog, causing unsuspecting victims to not notice until it was too late. Bug was a teenager whose fascination with insects stemmed from the fact that he could assume their size.

The two lackeys split up and began their surveillance while the remaining six protected their leader. The silence was tense. Only the sound of the waves and the wind kept them grounded in their surroundings. Everyone stood on their guard at the entrance of the pier.

In a flash of steel clashing, Kaito Nakamura dropped down onto the tight formation. His katana making contact with Maximus' armor and his foot making contact with Tilt's face. Like a whirlwind, he swept his foot under Tilt and Maximus leaving the north position open. From the ground, Tilt lifted his hand to project his vertigo onto Kaito, but Charles Deveaux emerged from the shadows and initiated his power of reflection. Tilt was now his own worst enemy, caught in his own trap.

Brass Knuckles, with his arms made of metal, and Thorn, with her skin covered in spikes, charged forth. But with the little bit of Tilt's energy that he still possessed, Deveaux dropped these two as well. Not to say that they didn't try, but their efforts of recovery were put down once Angela Petrelli showed on the scene with a tranquilizer gun.

Shift, Cloud and Raziel made a quick dash back to their boat. Two more shots dropped the minions. Raziel would've been next, but he quickly became one with the shadows. The trio all glanced to each other.

Angela smiled and turned back to the parking lot. "All right, sweetheart," she yelled back. In a flash of brilliance, two bright headlights illuminated the dock. Raziel, now plainly visible, took the form of a tiger. Charging forward with teeth out, he made mad swipes with gigantic paws. Roaring in fury, Angela retreated to higher ground. But this wildcat was ready for it. She moved her tranq gun to shoot the transformed villain, but his Telekineses tossed it out of her hand.

She moved her legs quickly to catch the maw of the beast. While she fended off his teeth with her heels, Kaito quickly wrangled his arms around Raziel's neck. He quickly threw his weight back bringing the tiger to the ground. Swiftly he delivered his elbows down, and dug them hard and deep.

"Face me like a man!" Kaito screamed. Transforming back into his human form, Raziel lit the struggle up with his Electricity.

10,000 volts coursing through his body, Kaito lost his grip. He was not easily defeated though. Smoke rising from his black sweater, he stood tall and proud. He drew the sword from its sheath on his back. Running now with his knees high and his body low, Kaito snuck a swipe very close to Raziel. Unfortunately, Raziel had achieved a Phasing ability, coupled with his natural speed. With every quick dash made by the sword, Raziel was able to reflect away from the blade.

In the bold and brazen moves of the ninja, Kaito used theatrics to distract the enemy. In one fell swoop, he pointed his sword straight down with his hand pointed straight up, and brought it down into the wooden planks of the dock. As he did this, he propelled his body up high into the air. The detonator hidden in his sleeve slid down his arm, and he promptly pushed the button that blew the explosives in the hilt of his sword. Raziel was sent flying back. Landing hard but not knocked out, Raziel slowly tried to regain his bearings. Feet back on the ground, Kaito tossed several shuriken from a pouch. Two of the deadly stars dug deep into Raziel's chest.

The toxins coated on the stars slowly made their way into his blood. Laughing loudly, the mad vampire twisted his thin pale lips into a smile, "You fools! I can't be killed! I have seen the inner workings of the Universe and my soul has danced with the ebb and flow of the cosmos. This mortal form is one of many for me."

This lethal squad of New York's finest collected around the body of Raziel. The Petrellis, Charles Deveaux and Kaito Nakamura all stood there solemnly. It was Kaito who would break the bad news to him.

"I know that you chose this night to arrive in New York for the moon's good fortune." He slowly lifted his eyes to the pale orb. "Trying to use the lunar eclipse as a boost to your evil cause; your evil ways of transcending time and space. But we will turn her energy against you. We are quite aware that destroying your mortal form is futile. That is why we mean to destroy your spirit." Now, Kaito fixed his eyes on the female Petrelli.

Slowly she knelt down and placed her hand on the vampire's head. Smiling coldly, she quietly whispered to her enemy, "Time to dream."

-------------------------------------------------

The landscape was black. No differentiation of up or down, left or right. Angela had never seen a black so empty. Laying before her astral project was the spectral representation of Raziel.

Weak and subdued from poisons, Raziel looked up at the accomplished Angela. With the little energy he had, he whispered "No energy...in this Universe can be destroyed...I...will live...I will live on...to curse your families."

Angela smiled at his empty threat. "We'll see about tha--" Quick like a snake, Raziel reached his hand up and dug it deep into Angela's abdomen. Convulsing in agony, she firmly planted her hands onto Raziel's face. With all the power she could muster, she began to rip the dying vampire in half. Now both enemies began to cry out in pain. Raziel's lodged hand began to slip out as his form was torn down the middle. Once the villain was in two pieces, the halves dissipated and vanished into the eternal void of the Astral Plane.

Panting from victory, she was glad that it was over. Slowly she concentrated on regaining consciousness.

--------------------------------------------------

_Company Headquarters, New York: October 12, 2006_

Four doctors and two agents were accompanying the wavering body of Eden McCain. The bullet had barely missed any vital regions of her brain and now they meant to get her to the one man who could save her from the blood loss.

Bennet couldn't believe what he was seeing. He knew he couldn't trust hot-headed Eden just to sit on the Sylar case. He should have changed the access code to the cell. He had underestimated both Sylar and Eden. She wasn't agent material. Too much fire and vendetta in her blood. No matter what excuse he came up with, he just wound up blaming himself.

When they reached the elevator, Agent Thompson reached out his hand. "This is where you get off, Bennet," then turning to the doctor near the control panel, "Dammit man, hit the Lobby button!"

---------------------------------------------------

_The next day_

Eden woke to find herself in her old cell, tied to a chair and her mouth duct-taped. _Why am I alive?,_ she thought. She knew that there would be trouble if she had succeeded in taking Sylar's life. But she didn't and wound up taking her own. Why would she be in trouble for that?

She could hear some commotion behind the mirror-plated glass. Maybe now that she was awake, she would get some answers. Ten minutes past before she heard footsteps approaching the door. They had her facing the wall with the mirror, back to the door. When the door finally opened, she couldn't believe her eyes. Mr. Linderman was in the facility.

Mr. Linderman was in Texas! That was surprising enough. She had only seen the man once, and it was from 100 yards away as he sat in the back of a limo.

He sauntered his way over to the chair opposite from Eden at the table. Sitting in the charming way only an elderly man can, Linderman smiled for a little bit before he spoke.

"My dear Eden. You came quite close to jeopardizing everything. Did you know that? I know it's difficult to believe that Sylar is worth being kept alive. I don't like it. I know he's an animal. But he's not just that. He is the catalyst for the future." His smile grew a little wider. He continued, "From your reaction, something tells me you don't believe me. Without giving too much away, let me just say that I am willing to invest my fortune on that beast. Now, I'm a reasonable man. I'm not upset about your attempt at Sylar." The gentle old fellow now took a deep breath and his face grew long. "What I can't stand to believe is that you let the painter escape. I had him...had him in my bloody grasp and you let him go. I hope for your sake, he keeps painting."

The two sat there for a moment in silence. Then Linderman reached across the table to remove the tape over her mouth as if he had forgotten it.

"Am I staying in my cell, then?" the young woman quipped.

"Oh no," Linderman smiled back. "We've established a kinship. I couldn't keep you here, knowing all you've done for us. No, Agent McCain, I have something better suited for you. I can't waste your talents babysitting here. I'd like you to go meet with a friend of mine. This friend is also invested in Sylar, but he doesn't get him until I'm done. I want you to make sure my fr--"

"Stop saying what you don't mean. Who is the creep and what do you want me to tell him?" she interrupted him.

"Well, well. She doesn't want to waste anytime it seems!" Linderman joked back into his seat. "He's had to wait twenty five years. And I need you to go tell him, he just has to wait a few weeks more. After Election Day, he shall have the two pieces he's missing from his puzzle."

"A friendly email can't convey the message?" Eden wondered.

"No, sweet child," Linderman replied disparagingly. "You see, he keeps sending his mean messengers to me. It's time I sent him my own messenger."

Suddenly, Eden heard the door open. A beast of a man lumbered in slowly. He wore a trench coat, though Eden had noticed it was comically too small for the massive man underneath it. This human mountain sat in the chair next to Linderman and as he sat, the sound of metal on metal came up abruptly. "Eden, I would like you to meet Maximus, personal bodyguard to my old friend, Raziel."

The truth then became obviously clear to her. "I'm collateral. I live with this freak until you make good on your end of the bargain. You twisted old --"

"Please, Ms. McCain. Let's calm down, shall we? How about you recall the close call you had yesterday? A bullet through the head isn't an easy thing to patch up. Face it, you are indebted to me in more ways than you care to know. So why don't you show a little appreciation to the man who gave you a purpose? Or shall I paint you a picture?"

Eden's mouth was sealed tight. She knew what this man was capable of and she could only imagine what Maximus could do.

----------------

_One week later..._

Eden arrived to what seemed to be the Black Sun Headquarters. She could hardly believe that it was habitable, but Maximus told her that they had been there over twenty five years. She had gotten the whole story of the Black Sun's history on the boat trip over. The long, grueling story was nothing compared to the rickety voyage across the sea. When she laid her eyes on the building she would be living in, she thought that it couldn't get worse. Then she met Raziel.

The twenty five years lived without a soul had done nothing for Raziel. Literally, nothing. He was a shell of a man, no soul or life force to drive his cells into production. He would spend his days as a lifeless mummy.

"UNTIL I GET THE TWO HALVES OF MYSELF THAT ARE OUT THERE," he informed the disgusted McCain. That fateful night at Douglas Harbor had been the end of one being, and the beginning of two other's. Raziel left the important piece where he could find it, inside his enemy. The other half was originally thought to be lost forever. But thanks to the ambition behind it, that half was somewhat of a spotlight stealer.

The heartless theft of so many powers was so remeniscent of Raziel's quest for power, that he knew Sylar had to be his descendant. Raziel's wait had to be over. He was done living like an invalid.

He knew that Linderman could deliver him what he needed. And if Linderman couldn't dispatch the two forces, then Raziel would find his own way of making them all one again.

"But how are you going to join the two together? Don't the two halves of your soul kind of already have homes?" the naive Eden asked.

Raziel only smiled his twisted, black smile. "ALL THE SOULS NEED IS ONE HOST. I HAVE THE OPTION OF EITHER OF THEIR BODIES." Quickly, his glistening eyes darted to stare her down. "FROM WHAT LINDERMAN HAS TOLD ME, YOU'D RATHER SEE SYLAR DEAD?"

She could here the tone of tempter in his voice. She nodded excitedly.

"WELL, I CAN ENSURE THAT SYLAR'S BODY REMAINS AS EMPTY AS THE SHELL YOU SEE BEFORE YOU. WE WILL LET LINDERMAN'S PLAN PLAY OUT. BUT WHEN THAT FAILS, WE WILL BE PREPARED, WON'T WE?"


	8. Chapter 8

_Present Day_

Once they had been captured, Peter and Sylar were pumped with as many drugs as they could take. Subdued and weak, the two were shrouded in the darkness of a medicated slumber. Powers suppressed, they lay in their cell, for what seemed like days to them. Raziel was waiting to break the fighting spirit out of them. For three days, he neglected their every need. For whatever moments they were actually conscious, Sylar and Peter were in great pain. Fighting it was impossible; lifting their heads was a chore. Our heroes were in a predicament only summarized by the word 'doomed'.

------------  
Awakening on the Deveaux rooftop wasn't much of a surprise to Peter. But what was off-putting was the sky. A blood red horizon lit everything Peter could see. Peter suddenly noticed another eerie phenomenon. Charles wasn't there. Peter was utterly alone. This was the first time he had arrived and Charles wasn't waiting for him. The butterflies in his stomach grew bigger and bigger as he frantically searched for his guide. This world wasn't right; it was different.

Knowing that something was off kilter, Peter tried waking from his dream. But nothing happened. He wasn't leaving the roof. He had been thrust into this world unexpectedly, and now seemed trapped with in it.

"Hello?" he called out as loud as he could. "Is anyone out there? I don't know why I am here" As he said these words, he felt the arrant truth behind them. Scared and alone, like most organism, Peter chose to fly away. As he lifted his arm and his eyes to the sky, there came a shadow over him.

The figure was back lit by the pure brilliance of the sky. This angel was large and strong, Peter could see that. Slowly, the new member of the vision descended onto Peter. As he got closer, Peter started to make out the features on the person's face. Almost automatically at the moment of recognition, Peter began to weep. Peter couldn't hold the tears back.

"Nathan..." he said breathlessly. There, now standing before him, was his brother, alive as that last moment over the Atlantic Ocean. "I...I don't want this to be a dream..."

"No Peter. This is much more than a dream. You have to know by now that you can visit the other side?"

"Other side?"

"It has a lot of names, but imagine it as an invisible world sitting right next to the tangible one. Everyone visits here in their dreams, but only you and Ma can see everything clear as the waking world."

"Mom is here?" Peter asked excitedly. He could use all the help he could get.

"No," Nathan answered sadly. "She doesn't come here anymore. I think she couldn't stand to see me looking in from this side of the looking glass."

Peter's emotions were raging. So much had transpired in the past year and a half and it all came at Peter like a tidal wave. Without a second thought, he quickly threw his arms around the person he missed most.

Nathan returned the embrace and smiled away his unhappy mood. Peter thought that this had to be the closest to a religious experience he'd ever encounter. Nathan slowly pried them apart.

"Look, we don't have a lot of time. We need to talk."

Nathan got a deep look on his face. "Do you remember what I told you after we pulled that...thing out of your head? I told you that I wouldn't know who I would be without you." Peter nodded solemnly, hanging on every word. Nathan continued. "That still stands. You are my little brother, the rock beneath me, no matter what anyone says."

Peter looked quizzically at his brother. "That's what you want to talk about? Nathan, of course you are still my brother. Nothing can ever change all the things you've done for me, for everyone. I am more proud be--"

Nathan suddenly grew much sterner. "Peter, you have to be prepared."

"What?"

"Prepared, goddammit!" he yelled. "The fight ahead of you isn't what you're expecting...Most of it isn't going to be fought with brawn or flashy powers." Nathan took a deep breathe. "You're going to need every ounce of willpower inside you. So when someone tries to tell you who you are, you remember..."

As consciousness slowly came back to the dreaming Petrelli, he could hear his brother's last words to him, "No matter how weak they got you, never stop fighting. Fight the future."  
---------------------------

"Peter, wake up!!" Sylar's voice boomed in the chamber. Peter awoke to the putrid smell of mold and urine in his cylinder cell, with a diameter of approximately 8 feet. No door or windows. It seems they were dropped into a sort of well and the top had been sealed. The bricks were old and cold, it had the feeling of being underground. _Why are we so coherent now? How long have we been out?, _Peter began asking himself. _What could possibly be different?_

_Could it be that my stomach is eating it self?, _he thought. _Or the fact that my eyes are burning and dried out? _He was thankful for the darkness. He could hear Sylar breathing heavily, sitting against the wall. "What are you doing?" Peter asked laboriously. There was no answer of words, but the grunting of hard work. In the very low level of light, Peter could see the sweat building on Sylar's brow. "What are you doing?" he asked again, impatiently.

Sylar quickly answered with a "Shhhhh." As if to say that absolute quiet was necessary. More focused breathing and grunting from the resilient Sylar was making Peter more apprehensive. It could only be that Sylar was trying to focus his power. The glow was barely anything noticeable at first but it began to grow, with extreme concentration from Sylar. His lips tightened, and the sweat rolled off of him. Brighter and brighter it got as his hand became a lantern for the two prisoners.

"A little something..." he began drudgingly, "to make sure we still got 'em." Peter shook his head and laughed. Defeat wasn't in his tone, but it was behind his thoughts. He had never felt so drained. His body was weak and his mind cloudy. It was reassuring to see Sylar try to fight the fatigue. Behind his minuscule laugh Peter added, "Well then, if we are testing our powers, let me see if I can fly up there and lift that slab." Throwing his head up to indicate the cover 30 feet up, sealing them in.

"Too bad exploding will only mean this whole cell collapses in on top of us." Sylar chuckled. The two began to laugh more and more. Their bleak situation was only laughable in this loopy mental state. Or maybe they genuinely were becoming good friends. Either way, it was cut short.

The huge brick above their heads began to move. The lid began to slide with the grinding of stone-on-stone, but not removed completely. There in the crescent opening, peeking down on the prisoners was the bandaged Maximus, who was still reeling from the burns inflicted by Sylar.

"Sylar" was the only thing he said, and said with much distaste. Peter and Sylar looked at each other. _What do you think he wants?_ Sylar projected. With a thud on the skull, he got his answer. The rope ladder dangled behind the struck Sylar. Sylar lazily draped his arm on the rung. "I can't climb. My muscles all feel like lead." Maximus' glared with the fire of hell in his eyes. In those eyes, he told Sylar as plain as he said he wasn't going to climb, Maximus wasn't pulling.

----------------------

Plodding up the stairs in chains, Sylar wanted his strength more than anything. He remembered the days when he felt invincible. When he lived just take on more power. That power came at the great cost of his humanity. Evil madness brought on his sadistic campaign and now that Sylar refrained, it only brought pain. The only woman to touch his heart had led him into a trap. She had turned the lion into a pussycat and left a trail of nip for him to follow. And all he wanted to do now was draw out his claws.

Maximus pushed the exhausted Sylar up the staircase and down the hall with a smile on his face. His master had wanted the infirmly prisoners conscious, but in no shape to fight back. Maximus could only have been more content if he were dragging Sylar's dead body. _Soon enough, soon enough, _the giant thought.

Eventually they had shuffled their way back into the dilapidated library that housed the coffin and Raziel. Sylar stood before the stiff, unmoving mummy. On either side of him stood Eden McCain and a figure Sylar couldn't make out. Eden's coy bright smile was the salt rubbed in the wound. He had to undo a year of affection. For every moment he spent admiring her, he felt now he had to be repulsed by her. But he couldn't. The long nights, the sweet kisses hidden under the safety and security of his bed sheets.

Raziel's omniscient voice boomed forth through the silence. "FAMED VILLAIN, REHABILITATED HERO: SYLAR, THE MAN WITH ALL THE BRAINS. YOU KNOW, WATCHING YOU KILL WAS QUITE A SPECTACLE. BY ANY MEANS NECESSARY, YOU CLAIMED WHAT WAS RIGHTFULLY YOURS. I REALLY MUST COMMEND YOU. BUT," and now Sylar could hear the voice's tone drop, causing more bass to rattle the walls. "YOU HAD THE UNIQUE ABILITY TO ASSESS ANY SITUATION. THE UNPARALLELLED SENSE OF RECOGNITION. WHEN I HAD THAT POWER, DO YOU KNOW WHAT I DID?"

Sylar was unmoving. His head tilted down, sweat pouring down his forehead. "I MEDITATED FOR 3 MONTHS. I WASN'T MOVED BY HUNGER OR WORRY. I LET LIFE HAPPEN AROUND ME; IN ME. UNTIL I UNDERSTOOD HER. YOU KNOW, LIFE'S SECRETS ARE NOT SO HARD TO FIND WITH AN ABILITY LIKE OURS, MY DEAR MR. GRAY. BUT YOU DIDN'T CARE FOR EXPERIENCE. UNFORTUNATELY, YOU TOOK IT FOR GRANTED. ANY LAST WORDS BEFORE I MAKE YOUR LIFE FORCE MINE AGAIN?"

The hapless Sylar just stood, hands heavy with chains; head slung low and wavering. He sneered his teeth beneath his dark, unshaven face. "Did you ever try living?"

"EXCUSE ME?"

"I tried to put a human foot forward once I met my fate with a samurai sword. I let the hunger for power and knowledge which had consumed me before, fall to the wayside. Struggling for more and more only leads to destruction. Maybe you should take the same hint I did. When I got up from the fall, that's when I knew my strength."

Eden looked to Raziel for some sign of reaction. She had never heard anyone speak so brutally to Raziel. His distinguished eyes sitting deep in their black sockets squinted in laughter.

The laughter rattled the room. "YOU PROUD FOOL! EDEN, BREAK HIM"

"Wait!" Sylar interrupted. "I know what you are. You're power won't work on me," he smiled ever so slightly.

Eden returned the smile, "My power is way past just using my words. Remember, that the female of the species is deadlier than the male. At this point, Sylar my love, I could just stand next to you, letting you get a whiff of my perfume. Then its a matter of whispering a command and turning you to putty. Now, why don't you come over here, baby?"

Sylar clenched his fists in rage. He hated being told what to do.

"Come on, Gabe." Something in the way she said it. Something about her tone, about the memories attached to that sweet alto of hers made Sylar feel weaker. Images of Jenny's curves, memories of the touch of her skin plagued the battered man. He wanted to be with her. He wanted to go to her. But he didn't know if it was to kiss or to strangle her. He knew that it was wrong. He knew that it would mean his demise, but slowly his shackled feet began to move towards her.

The part of Sylar's brain that still had some sense, decided to fall to his knees; impede the slow trek over to his doom. "Aw, baby, your shoelaces are untied." She stepped with a subtle rock of her hips. Only one step forward now, she giggled spiritedly. Sylar just looked forward, buried in thought. Her warm demeanor quickly faded to obvious frustration. Seconds past and Sylar's defiance had gone too far. Eden screamed, "_Stand up!_" in a guttural tone, booming her power behind it.

In the sudden reaction expected of Sylar standing, he was able to throw his body forward from his kneeling position. Diving straight for Eden, Sylar's arm was like a python in the brush grabbing hold of her skirt from his position on the ground. Stretched out, he screamed in the voice reserved for his victims "You and Nakamura can burn for this! Watching me die won't bring back Suresh or Charlene."

Eden was quick this time and backed up, tearing her skirt in his grasp. Sylar mistook her jovial jump for nervousness, so as his delusional smile widened , she smiled wider and asked Raziel, "Oh please, let me be the one to tell him, Raz."

Now, with a little more apprehension, Sylar looked up to the clapping, giddy young woman, "Tell me what?" he asked quietly.

"That you are a bigger fool than any of us could ever imagine." a familiar voice broke through. From the shadow behind Raziel's coffin, stepped Hiro Nakamura. "I don't know a Charlene." the small figure in his long trench coat spoke softly. Then in a flash of light, Hiro's figure became blindingly illuminated. The flash was soon over, and when all their eyes had adjusted back, Hiro Nakamura was no longer standing there.

An older Caucasian fellow, with wiry blond hair stood there. His unshaven face, and sunken wrinkled eyes looked icily down on Sylar.

"I think you're talking about the Hiro Nakamura we're holding hostage. I'm just his stand in."

"SHIFT, MAXIMUS: DRAG THAT MISERABLE SACK OVER HERE." The revealed shape-shifter and the metallic brute complied, and finally Sylar let them. He had been defeated. His glassy eyes looking off into nothing, seeing the lies he took for happiness over the past year; the struggle he had gone through in the past 4 days. Sylar's stomach was twisted into a mess, kneeling before a mummy, he realized it was the face of Death.

He had brought so many lives to end, and now he was going to receive his ultimate redemption. As a boy, Gabriel's family instilled a fear of God and a respect to all things holy. Those repressed memories of his childhood were all resurfacing now. The communion, the stained glass trials of Christ, the ever watching eye of God. Sylar prayed in his heart that God was watching. He hoped that the Maker would witness Sylar give up his chance at the afterlife. His belief in the soul was deep rooted, but now it's fate was unclear to Gabriel. He didn't know what this dark ceremony meant for his eternal soul, but it was happening now.

Raziel leaned forward out of his box and hovered for a moment looking into the blank eyes of Gabriel 'Sylar' Gray. Like a hidden thread buried under the surface, Gabriel could feel something slowly escape from inside him. With each passing second, his skin began to wrinkle and sag on his face. Inversely, Raziel's complexion brightened and began to take shape.

With the grand show going on at the front of the room, no one noticed that Peter had materialized near the door. He regained his bearings but it was too late. Raziel, who had released Sylar from his deadly grasp, was in a coughing fit. The recent moisture to his throat was sudden and unexpected. As the limp body of his companion fell to the ground, Peter's heart felt as if it were slammed into a brick wall.

Sylar was dead.

He couldn't bear to think that he was too late. Peter had never been late for anything he was set on doing. His tears welled up because he was disappointed, and he had let a good person die. A person that he found came from the same origin as Peter. They were two halves to a bigger picture, and Peter was sad to be alone now.

"How'd he get here?" a bewildered Maximus uttered, as he caught the petrified Petrelli.

"He froze time and waited for the drugs to wear off, idiot." a newly rejuvenated Raziel spoke from his restored lips. "I knew he would. He's as brave as Richard, the Lionheart. And twice as ingenious."

Peter was worn thin. His impatience and frustration finally got the better of him, and he charged forward. Maximus, like a football MVP intercepted Peter's beeline and planted his feet. Peter hit the metal wall with a force that had a severe bounce back. Peter slid back reeling from the extreme contact.

"Please behave. Or I'll have my men snap that street urchin's neck. I've kept him alive for insurance purposes. In fact, Sari, Hiro and your mother are all under a very close watch by my sources. With a word, all three will be eliminated."

Peter, grunting on the ground, asked "What do you want?"

Raziel smiled a crooked smile, his new face still very stiff. "To live in harmony, my dear boy. I want to teach you a little something about supersession. Please, Peter, let's talk some sense. I want to reclaim the helm of my fortune, and I want you to host the party. This body has undergone quite a bit of wear in the past 150-some-odd years. You cooperate with me, and we shall make the possibilities endless. Such potential."

For the second time in 4 days, Peter heard a Lankashire accent in his head replay a scene from his dark past, _Maximum potential. I think he was talking about you, mate._

Peter's weak spirit saw the sense in it. Raziel was most likely in need of more than he was letting on, though. "What is it you **need** from me?"

Raziel went over to the kneeling Peter. Crouching down, Raziel came face to face with the young man. Peter's heart skipped a beat at the thought that Raziel would do to him what he just saw him do to Sylar. But there was no withdrawal. Just the rancid breath of a reanimated corpse. "Peter, do you know how time travel works?" He shook his head.

"Well, every auia...do you know what an 'auia' is? I'm sorry, sometimes I forget that not everyone is caught up in matters such as these. An auia is a soul, essentially. Visualize a field, at night, swarming with fireflies. That's the Universe, and each point of light is a being. Now those little lights all follow a course; a course riddled with events. My one light was split in two in 1981. To ensure that it stuck, my enemies stamped the event with a lunar eclipse. What I search to do is supersede that event. Your powers are attached to that vessel, your body. I need you to take us back to 1979, during a solar eclipse. If the two halves to my one light are together before they ever became two, well then I will erase 1981's tragic events. Coincidentally, we'll be able to snap Hiro out of his daze while we're in 1979 and all return here, one big happy family."

"That's where Hiro is? How did you get him there?" Peter asked dumbfounded that Hiro would volunteer for such a thing.

"That was my doing" Eden interrupted from behind Raziel. "He came looking to officially finish what his father started." Raziel said maliciously. "The little samurai had a strong heart before we beat it into submission. He may need medical attention, Peter, so the more time we spend thinking about it..."

"You'll leave my loved ones alone if I agree to this?" Peter frustratingly interrupted.

Raziel only grinned wider. "My dear boy, they'll be my loved ones too"


	9. Chapter 9

"The little samurai had a strong heart before we beat it into submission. He may need medical attention, Peter, so the more time we spend thinking about it..."

"You'll leave my loved ones alone if I agree to this?"

Raziel only grinned wider. "My dear boy, they'll be my loved ones too."

Confusion plagued the exhausted young man. Peter couldn't fully comprehend what was at stake. Living this villain's life for him; with him. How could he trust someone this calculated? This person went to great lengths to trick them here. And now Sylar was dead for it. Nothing was known about Raziel, and that only scared Peter more. "I can't..." he slowly began. But the strong Raziel quickly stood before the uncertain Petrelli.

"Peter, you unfortunately don't have the choice. I am just trying to make this change easier for you by bringing you in on it from the start. Your auia is rightfully mine and I mean to take it. Now that we are together, let me teach you about real power."

Naturally Peter resisted these words of temptation. He had always been taught to love the world and be loved by it back. He knew that in his heart was only the capacity for good. Peter never sought out power or glory. "I don't want real power. I want to help people."

Raziel chuckled, shaking the dust from his robe. "My boy, who can help more people? A hospice nurse, or a mayor? You need affluence to be able to reach more people. We can both get what we want out of this exchange, Peter. We need to bide our time. Build up the Black Sun Gang again, invest wisely. Get acclimated an today's modern market and then reap the benefits. What's more important, if we live in harmony inside your body, no one has to die. In your creation, my soul was able to evolve past taking people's power. You have the ability to absorb other's powers, but without the deadly outcome. Brilliant. No one will hunt us or try to stop us. We can be free to take what's there for the taking."

Despite the implications of everything said, it all was sounding rather logical to Peter now. Raziel had said that no one would die. That seemed like what Peter wanted, but then why was he being allowed to postulate here on the floor? "Well, I thought I didn't have a choice. Do it already." Raziel said nothing but extended his hand down to Peter to get him off the floor.

Now standing face-to-face, Raziel shook his head and whispered, "**You** already know how."

He was right. The feeling for new life was desperate inside him. A part of him was reaching for energy. It was a sensation he had never felt before. It was an identifiable difference in his day to day absorption of other powers and it struck him with terror. His body was taken over by a possession beyond Peter's control.

Suddenly a warm sensation enlivened the slumped over Peter. The feeling was hard to describe in words, but it was almost like having a blanket slowly wrap around you, and then seep into every pore of your body, getting immediately into the flow of your blood. With the ecstatic feeling enrapturing him, Peter was immensely distracted. He didn't notice the body in front of him slowly dry up and fall to the floor. With the body lifelessly at his feet, he couldn't stop the absorption. The glowing surrounding Peter was getting bigger. His eyes, white as snow, were shooting off a lot of energy. Whatever had just happened, it was quickly getting out of hand.

The room shook slowly and steadily as the energy intensified. Shift, Maximus and Eden were all at a loss. They were not prepared for such an occasion as this. Slowly, as they thought it could only get worse, the imminent destruction was quelled on its own. Peter's body relaxed, and the changed man stood there.

Looking down in amazement, Peter was stunned. He was worried because the last thing he remembered was running into Maximus and hitting the ground. But his body didn't ache. Neither did his stomach. In fact, Peter had never felt better. Then the light went off in his brain, and Peter began to freak out.

"No, no no no," he frantically exclaimed. The others slowly approached the upset Peter.

"Boss? Are...you...there?" Maximus asked, trying not to sound like he was leaving a voicemail. But the truth was that he had never asked to speak with another person who inhabited a different body. Peter just looked like his own worried self.

"What's happening?" Peter ran to the mirror hanging on the wall. He didn't look any different. His face bore no wear from the starvation. Then, like a spark from an ancient ember in Peter's eye, Raziel awoke from his dormant state.

_"A breath into new life. The beginning of it all."_ The whispered hiss of the spirit was chilling to the bone. It was soft and omnipresent, as if Raziel was standing behind each of them whispering in their ears.

With a great startle, Tilt burst into the room from his guard post. He had heard the rumbling from downstairs and hurried to the commotion. "What the hell is going on? I left the kid unconscious, but this better be good." Perplexed that there was no one hundred fifty year old mummy in its box, Tilt was hesitant to believe the plan had actually worked. He had doubted that they could get it done, since the last twenty five years had been spent sitting dormant. Raziel in Peter's form quickly took notice of the revelation in Tilt's head with his new access to Peter's telepathy. He winced at the thought of a doubter posing as a loyal soldier.

A slimy smile slowly slid across his subtle scowl. Raziel lifted the subordinate into the air and pulled him close to where he was standing. Looking eye-to-eye, yet upside down, Tilt knew that he was in for a world of pain.

_Goodbye, Stephen. So good of you to leave your power behind with me before I dispose of you._

Having that said, Raziel lifted his hands in front of the floating body, and wrung him like a wet towel. Twisted, broken and drained of blood, the body quickly made its way to the back wall of the room.

"You're absolutely insane!" Peter broke out from behind the overbearing presence of Raziel inside him.

_I prefer the term 'Megalomaniac'. Don't worry, my boy. You will soon be just an afterthought in my history. Now that I am in possession of your body, it will just be a matter of time before I have one hundred percent control._

"I won't let you get away with this!"

_Ah, but you have to! I have left several people you care about in the crosshairs. You'll cooperate without a question._

No uproar there. Eden approached the new man before her. "I've been waiting for this moment." Softly, she placed a hand on his cheek, and leaned in. Her soft lips pressed against his in a quiet explosion of anticipation. As she pulled away, Eden let out a slight moan of elation. "Let's get you at one hundred percent."

And with no notice or indication of what was to come next, Peter/Raziel and Eden were gone. Maximus's first reaction was the obvious _Where did they go?_ But once it had dawned on him, he went to get the mop to clean up the large puddle of Tilt's blood.

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_Hyderabad, 1979_

The moment Eden opened her eyes, her heart and brain almost exploded. Not only the shock of jumping back thirty years in time, but the appearance of the room was astonishing. Her esophagus seized in shock and she began to suffocate. Reaching her arm out and dropping to her knees, Eden was in a panic. The library carpet to which she collapsed was a vibrant red. The wood finish was a warm brown chestnut and wrapped the entirety of the room. The clear crystal hung from the ceiling like a brilliant star at the top of a Christmas tree. Her eyes became transfixed on this centerpiece. Never in her few years suffering the indignity of living in Hyderabad did she ever imagine this library being so pristine.

She began to calm herself down and slowly regained her breath. As she stood, she shook her head. "Whose office is this?"

Raziel chuckled. "This, my sweet," the villain spoke from the lips of Peter Petrelli, "is the Middle East Headquarters of a fledgling organization you may be acquainted with in our present. This branch will be closed down in a few years. Rumors spread that this is the laboratory of a mad scientist and citizens come bearing figurative torches to run out 'Dr. Frankenstein'. When I was turned into the living dead, Linderman was more than willing to lend a building locals believed to be haunted. It seemed...a per--"

Just then a man with swept light brown hair entered the room, "Excuse me?" he asked in a nasally British accent. Eden quickly turned to face the intruder, and was halted by his eyes. As soon as her eyes made contact with his, her only startled response was "Sir." The young man was somewhat surprised by this abrupt, bizarre answer. He smiled a bit and bashfully put his hands in his pockets, "I thought I heard someone say my name. Can I help you two?"

Raziel went over to the young Daniel Linderman, hand extended and smile awaiting. "Nice to see you, Mr. Linderman," the cool Raziel said as he fought the turbulent Peter inside. "My name is Raziel. This is Eden. We are old friends of yours. From the future. We were the ones who sent Mr. Nakamura here for safe keeping."

The sweet, fresh face of Linderman brightened. "Amazing! I told Arthur we were on to something big! We didn't know what to make of that Japanese chap. Your note, while well composed, still sounded like a bunch of hooey. We were sure that he was delusional, special, but delusional. We have him stored in a room downstairs. I can't believe this dumb and mute man is dangerous." Linderman said in disbelief. "Your note said he's a terrorist in the future? Don't you think it's dangerous keeping him here where he can do damage to the timeline?"

Raziel simply smiled his cheapest smile. "We were finally able to catch this menace, and subdue him. Fortunately, we have found a way to eradicate him for good. He has bounced back numerous times, but he won't be able to this time. We're erasing him completely from the timeline."

"WHAT?!" Peter broke through the thin facade Raziel set up. Linderman, who was quite startled by this outburst, gave Raziel a questionable look.

Eden quickly shot him a glance as well. This wasn't part of the plan. At least not that she knew of. Her stomach felt sick. Messing with time seemed completely over her head, and she felt the weight of this evil genius' plan. Raziel could not only hear these thoughts of panic, but the essence inside him turned like the tide in a tsunami.

"Will you please excuse us? The eclipse is going to begin soon and we don't want to miss it. Might as well catch a show while we travel," the diabolical Raziel joked.

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Since Peter could no longer observe the waking world, he decided to figure things out on the astral plane. He realized that the Deveaux rooftop was the setting for his encounters here because it was familiar. Here, he was able to make his surroundings or visit planes of existence with other beings in them. This was no time for experimentation and exploring, though. He had to find Hiro, fast.

He took a moment to focus. He was having problems mustering the power to concentrate. His existence was becoming less and less his own as Raziel powered up in Peter's former body. With absolute concentration, the visage of Hiro materialized in front of Peter. Slowly, like a painting showing itself on the blank canvas, the form of Hiro Nakamura coalesced in Peter's presence. As if he had been awoken from a bad dream, Hiro managed to shake himself free of whatever trance they had his mind in.

"Peter! We must... Where are we?" Hiro asked, searching his surroundings for some form of reference.

"We're floating between worlds. We don't have much time. Raziel only needs to teleport back to 2009 and we're both stuck here for eternity."

"Wait, we aren't in 2009? Where are we?"

"1979."

Hiro gasped. This wasn't a good year according to Hiro's reaction. "The eclipse. He'll use it to seal our fate and his own. The last thing I remember is sneaking into the Black Sun Headquarters, pretending to be a criminal. But they must've seen through it. How good are you with communicating with people outside this...place?"

"I don't know," Peter shrugged. "Why?"

"I have a friend in the present. His name is Sari..."

"Actually, Sari is captured. He was the one who led Sylar and I..."

"Sylar!"

"Look, it's a long story. He died falling into a trap Raziel set for us. It's almost as if Sari was part of the trap."

"That can't be. During my surveillance of Raziel, I made sure that Sari stayed away. You see, in the future Raziel disappears. But the Black Sun remains. I was so certain that I was the one to finish off Raziel. That's why I went to Hyderabad. Rumor in the future Hyderabad was that a time-traveler did him in once and for all. But Sari becomes the ringleader, continuing the cycle of villainy. So, I meant to change the future in showing kindness to one troubled soul. But now it looks like you led him right to them."

"Wait, Raziel disappears? So whatever stops him is already set?"

"I don't know. Time isn't a rigid plank we all walk, its a bamboo shoot that sways with the wind," Hiro responded, peeved. "But we need to make sure he gets out of there. I have to wake up! Get to Sari and save him."

"Hiro, calm down. I have an idea. You get to the present. You guys have to get Sari out of that building and make sure he can't get back. I'll work on Raziel."

"'You guys'?"

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On the roof, Peter/Raziel stood stoicly facing the Charminar. Eden sat at his feet. She was mulling over what Raziel had explained to her. He had said that as long as any Nakamura lived, they would always be in danger. He said that they would be averting vendettas from ever falling back on them. To ensure the demise of the Nakamura clan, Hiro was going to drive a bomb into Yamagato Towers. Of course Raziel had failed to mention to Linderman that this 'terrorist' was the future son of one of his close friends and co-founding members. But the way Raziel saw it, they weren't going to remain friends for much longer anyway. So he was doing future-Linderman a favor. It just so happened that this favor would ensure a long healthy life for Raziel.

As the sun slowly dimmed, and the dark disc intercepted its radiance, Raziel moved his heavy gaze off the monument in the horizon and moved it to the sweet girl at his feet. "Come. Fly with me."

She smiled sheepishly. Looking up and meeting his eyes, she couldn't say no. He reached down, grasped her around her forearm, and she did the same inversely. He shot up quickly, jerking her out of her Indian-style sitting. With his amazing strength, he single-handedly brought her up close to him. Bodies pressed together, the two lovers came to a halt. Floating over the city, they peered into the eclipse. No indicative pain or trauma marked this momentous occasion.

Raziel could feel the power growing inside him. The energy from the eclipse rained down in its invisible splendor. The cells in his body seemed to ignite with the charge he was being fed. Eden could feel a certain warmth against him. His body felt like it was tightening, growing. He looked down into her eyes, smiling. His last words to her would catch her off guard, but it would be too late.

"You'll never get the chance."

With his arms coiled around her, he tightened his grasp. Choking the air out of her lungs, his constrictors were unbreakable. With very little air in her lungs she tried to form the words "Let go!" but she was powerless. Feeling the world go black, Eden resorted to physical means, but they were also futile. She wouldn't win this day, and she was going to give her life.

She had stayed in the lion's den for too long. She never meant to join Raziel in his evil plans. She only stayed on with him to ensure Sylar's death. She wanted to go back to the Company. Especially since control was in Noah Bennet's hands. She meant to report everything she had seen to him. Never in her wildest dreams would she want Hiro Nakamura to perish from existence. She knew he was one of the good guys. She considered herself a good guy too. Just a good guy on the wrong end, trying to gut out evil from the inside out.

But it was too late, she couldn't hide her thoughts or intentions from this maniac anymore. And as she accepted her defeat, her heart finally stopped and she was dead.

Pleased with himself, Raziel glided back down to the rooftop. The body of Eden McCain draped under his arm, lifeless. He thought for a moment, about how perfect life was going to be. All that was left was to persuade Hiro to march to his doom. It was time to set his future on course.

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The visage of Hiro faded softly into the blackness. Peter concentrated for a moment on the thought of Sylar. Sylar. Sylar sitting in a corner. Curled up, hiding from the pain. As the image in his head shaped the scene, it formed in front of Peter. Making Sylar appear was the first feat. The next one was going to be to get him to open up.

He seemed to be trapped in his own mind, too hurt to face the world around him. The anguish inside him was enough to occupy his eternal struggle. Peter could feel the cold, deep feelings swelling inside of Sylar. Peter didn't know what to do. He had never seen the strong Sylar this weak. He was a little boy crying for a savior, living in Hell to appease his demons.

"Get up, Sylar."

He seemed not to hear Peter, focusing only on the pain he felt.

"Get up!"

Nothing. This wasn't going to get anywhere productive. That was a problem.

"Sylar, listen to me. I know at this point you may not believe in second chances, but you have one coming up. The wheels are in motion, and the time to jump is now. We were given these abilities for a reason. Now, I have this opportunity to let you know you can have your old life back. I don't think that Raziel survives the next time jump. Ever since Hiro said he disappeared...I don't know...it's like my ..."

And almost like they shared a brain, Sylar, through all his weeping, as clear as day, found the right word for Peter. "Precognition."

"Yeah...my Precognition is consistently on. Like I'm wading in a pool of water," he began to understand more clearly what was happening. His connection to this plane. His connection to Sylar. He was in complete control here. No boundaries or lines of demarcation. The future no longer came to Peter in vignettes. It was a channel he was tuned to no matter where his attention lay. The present situation posed no problem for Peter because he now felt the Intuitiveness that was Sylar's birthright.

Glancing with a Zen-like understanding, Peter continued, "But you, you can be free from this personal Hell, and you can move past it. You can still make a difference. Sari is in a lot of trouble. More trouble than he knows. Only you can make sure he never goes back to that Black Sun. Only you are powerful enough to put an end to that gang. Raziel won't be a problem. He's flown too close to the sun. Let the world live without his evil, but don't cast away your need for redemption. If you give up now, all those deaths remain on your head and we'll both be stuck here. But if you go back, you become something greater. A hero. And the most important power any hero can have is the example he leads. Gabriel?"

"I...I...I hear all...all their voices...but just their screams...the scream...the--"

"Sylar! I know! We all are plagued by the ones we've wronged. But it's up to us to make life about more than that. Use the years you have to make those voices subside under the voices of those that love and praise you. Just give it time. Time heals all wounds. Now listen, Sari needs you. That should be enough. Get up and get living."

Whatever spell Sylar was under seemed to calm a bit. He looked up at Peter, eyes and face glistening with tears. He swallowed the anguish he had been in, moistening his chapped lips. "I don't want to hurt anymore. Sari needs me. I can see it. His future without me. It's dark. Thank you, Peter."

With that said, the two entities, the two halves of this vast power, these two souls came together. Both men thanked the other for showing him a half of himself he had never known. An embrace for kindred souls. Somewhere at the core of their beings, a small reaction was happening. As the idea of existence began to flow into Sylar's consciousness, he felt like a part of Peter was being carried off with him. Inside his being, he felt braver. More sure of his heart. Sylar understood what it meant to love unconditionally.

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_Hyderabad, 1979_

"What do you mean 'he's escaped'?!" Raziel screamed with the brazen fury of a madman.

The inexperienced Linderman looked ghastly. He could see a fire in Raziel's eyes that indicated great control of a great power. "I'm sorry. He came out of his trance and then disappeared. I don't know what to say." He swallowed hard.

Raziel stared down into the blue eyes shivering in fright. No words could express the rage bubbling inside him. Raziel didn't have time to inform Linderman with all the reasons he couldn't kill him. But he thought them all and then disappeared.

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_Hyderabad, Present Day_

Inside the mansion, Maximus was quite startled by a loud boom in the sky. The mansion rattled for a few moments, knocking dust from it's dormant facade. Maximus put the mop down near Sylar's dead body. Shift made his way towards the door, "I'm going to go up on the roof and check it out." Maximus glaring up out the window.

Behind him on the floor, the clock inside Sylar had been wound. His chest began to lift, subtly with new life. He sat up like a vampire greeting the night. But the only one there was Maximus. _He'll have to do_, thought the wicked Sylar.

"Where's the kid?" Sylar spoke unabashed at his resurrection, standing on his feet. Maximus turned slowly, furious to know Sylar wasn't dead.

"I saw the boss kill you."

"Didn't take. Now tell me where the kid is, or pay." Sylar smiled, quickly bringing the mop to his awaiting hand and snapping it over his knee.

Maximus laughed. The thought of Sylar piercing his armor with a mop was the height of humor for him. But before he could grasp what had happened, he was naked. Like a toddler in a diaper, Maximus cried out in shock and horror as his whole suit collected in a puddle around his boots. His skin turned red with rage. He opened his mouth, and brought his hand forward to point at Sylar, but the words would never escape. Sylar sent the javelin straight into Maximus' gut, throwing him back into a wall. Stuck to a wall and screaming bloody murder, Maximus' muscles seemed to grow. Sweat gleaming and veins popping, he ripped the post sticking out from his abdomen._  
_  
The hulking brute made three steps, still screaming and panting, and then collapsed. The blood loss was too much, and now he was dead. Sylar smiled. Killing in the name of saving those you love was just as rewarding as killing for personal gain. He felt guilty for taking pleasure in such a thing, but he knew it would be baby steps to get away from his murderous hunger.

Sylar could hear a heart beat approaching the room. Fast as the wind, he moved to a more inconspicuous location. Shift immediately took notice of Maximus' large dead body like an elephant in the road. His only conclusion was to check on Sylar's body, which he saw was no longer laid out on the library floor, but actually standing right behind him. Shift ducked quickly and made his way back out the door. He knew he needed to get into a crowd of people; camouflage himself. It was his only defense. But as he turned the corner out into the hall, his momentum delivered him right onto the awaiting blade of Hiro Nakamura.

Hiro lifted the hilt, letting Shift slide down onto the ground. Sylar quickly came to see what had happened to his prey. He was startled to see Hiro. The two men stood silent for a few moments. Both of them were overcoming their preconceived notions of the other. Both had been unfair in their judgment of the man standing in front of him, and this similarity seemed to add a new respect between them.

Sylar looked down at Shift's cold body. "Looks like he didn't like your performance."

"Come on, we have to find Sari."

"Right. The cells are downstairs."

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"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!"

Materializing into the warm Indian sky, Peter/Raziel seized in pain. His body was overloading on all the power and culpability held with in it. Blood pumping, muscles cramping. The terrible feelings charged the young Petrelli like a fire cracker. Lightning, ice, fire, metal; all colliding together like a mad scramble for balance. His mind blazed with all the abilities that were getting out of hand. There was no way to neutralize what was happening.

Peter Petrelli was happy to see his body peel away like a camp fire dissipating into the night. The agony and anguish was a sweet release from the life he would have to lead. Memories of loved ones raced past his mind as his skin cracked in a million places, drawing their lines up and down his appendages. Flashing like a bulb mispositioned in its socket, his organs all began to collapse. In his last moments, he felt the excruciating pain of dying, but the sweet victory of living a meaningful life. And he smiled at the thought that a new journey was set to begin.

His body was failing on him more and more. He could feel himself stretching; ready to break apart at the seems. The tipping point felt so close; Peter gazed down at the surface from his height hundreds of feet in the air. A world he could leave behind, because he knew what awaited him. A world left to great heroes. Heroes he would aid whenever he could from his angel's seat.

Again, Peter Petrelli's body exploded like a supernova. Before he reached critical mass, the buried memories shone bright almost as if it were New York, 2006 all over again.  
_  
"Goodbye, Pete. I love you."_

_Here I come, Nathan.  
_  
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Rushing out into the street, Sylar and Hiro had Sari propped up. The poor boy was weak but not dying. He had suffered some tough nights out on the street, and a couple days without food was nothing. But he was so destitute, so downtrodden in his cell. No contact with the outside world had rendered him nearly hopeless. He was steadily gaining some strength, finding hope from his rescue.

_But why are we stopping?_, Sari thought to himself. Sylar and Hiro both put the young man onto the curb across the street from the mansion.

"Peter told me to make sure he can't go back there." Sari could hear Sylar say through the haze of his consciousness. Hiro nodded, "That is correct."

"Well, I have an idea. Sari," the boy could hear the commanding in Sylar's tone. He was serious about something. Sylar crouched down and putting his hands on both of Sari's shoulders, sat the teen up straight. "Look at me. I need you to focus your power for a couple seconds. Just think for a moment. You know how small a nail can be, right? Just focus on one nail. In that building."

Sari, still a little groggy, furrowed his brow. "Which one?"

Sylar smiled, "Eventually all of them. But they're all the same kind of nail, so just focus on one and magnetism will take care of the rest."

Sari slowly brought himself to his feet. He looked at either adult standing on both sides of him. It had occurred to him that since he developed his power, his life was becoming stranger. Now two grown men from New York wanted him to pull the nails out of this building. Sari closed his eyes, and took a few steps toward the building. Still off to the side of the road, he stretched his arms out. Nothing was happening. He turned to Sylar.

"This is stupid!" he exclaimed.

Sylar went over to the dirty street urchin and gave him a knowing gaze. "Sari, the first step to awakening a world of possibilities is to let go off preconceptions. The moment you think you are too weak, you become too weak. I just want you to focus on one nail."

Sylar stepped back now, behind Sari. Time for him to try his hand at something. The boy got situated again, facing the building. Again Sari stretched his arms out. Thinking and concentrating on the small metal nails holding the building together. Ever since Sylar had woken from his deathbed, he had felt brand new. Not only readier but more compassionate. He could sense something in himself as Sari extended his Magnetism. It wasn't the magnetism itself, but the thought of Sari.

_Focus on the tracker, _Sylar heard Mohinder's words echo in his memory. Sylar was doing it. He was now a generator for Auxiliary Reflective Manifestation. Peter's gift of love seemed to have a perk unforeseen to the excited Sylar.

The building began a slight shake. Nothing noticeable to the naked eye, but Sylar's ear could hear the vibration. Little nails, moving in place. None falling out of place, but oh so ready to be plucked. Then it suddenly occurred to Sylar. They didn't need to pull them out. More and more the nails vibrated. Each one setting off any still nails near them.

Now the three of them, the only ones in the barren street, could see the building moving. Sari was excited to see that he was actually having an affect on the it, unknowing that his power was being channeled through an 'amplifier.' Faster it shook, with pieces of its exterior plaster crumbling down. Sari now was "yanking" at the visual image he had of the nails. Trying to free them from their nearly ancient resting places. Sylar in the midst of his steady concentration yelled to the boy, "It's ok. I've got it from here."

And in a flash, faster than the blink of an eye, all the nails set in that old building liquefied. The roof caved in as the insides imploded. Shattered glass and dust erupted from the windows up and down the exterior walls. The three stared for a couple minutes at the now decimated, empty shell of the building.

Sylar, for once, was at peace. With the Black Sun Headquarters in ruins, he realized the difference he made. He would be called a 'hero' for once and it felt like an odd fitting jacket. He smiled at the thought that everyone back at Kirby Plaza was waiting for him to return. And he would return there because it resembled the closest thing to a home Sylar had known in years. A community of people who helped and supported each other. He was a part of that. They all formed one force to combat the tide of malice. Each one of them unique and important to the cause. Sylar realized it as Hiro placed his hand on his shoulder; that one person can't change the world. But many special people bound as one could face anything. And that was where Hiro took them. Home, to that force.


	10. Epilogue

Nathan had always pictured Heaven as a place made entirely in the clouds. He would day dream in church about gliding above the clouds with his majestic wings flapping. Growing up Petrelli didn't mean that you had to go to church every Sunday, but you most definitely had to respect the Creator.

"And so we know and rely on the love God has for us. God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in him," he would hear his father say sometimes. Nathan and Peter were twelve and four years old, sitting in the backseat of the family sedan.

"Why do you say that, Daddy?" Peter would ask, looking up from his book.

"Because, Pete, it's important to remember where real power lies. With pure love. No mortal can create for himself what God already has provided."

Nathan would pipe up whenever he saw a chance for debate. "That doesn't make sense, Dad. Man creates lots of things."

Angela and Arthur would get a chuckle over Nathan's boisterous mouth. "But Nathan, what I'm saying is that our creations cannot be without God's presence. He is in all of us, as long as we have love."

"What if you don't love?" Peter said with his head cocked in serious contemplation.

"I can't see that happening! You don't love me, Pete!?" Arthur would smile as he peeked back at his son.

"Noooooo," the child smiled. "That's not what I mean. I mean other people."

"When we cast out love, then we turn our backs on He who has given us everything." His eyes moved slightly to his wife in the passenger seat. "Those people who don't accept love think they can live without it. They think they can substitute God. And judgment will come for them in the afterlife."

"Where's that? In the clouds?" Nathan would joke. But he honestly believed it. He only mocked his father to seem 'cool'. Deep down inside, however, he knew that his father was wise. And Nathan always promised to live with love in his heart, so that he could fly with the angels.

Peter was just happy to be along side his brother again. The two spirits soared through the endless void, high above the clouds. Peter relished that he didn't have to be trapped serving an evil cause. His existence was a carefree one now. But it wasn't in Peter's nature to remain carefree. There were times that he desperately wanted to walk amongst mortal men again. He was coming to the realization that his influence could still be felt from this world.

For one, he and Nathan kept a watchful eye on the listless auia of Raziel. The utter collapse of his immature body had traumatized his ego in the afterlife. It was almost as if Raziel had forgotten who he was. Not amnesiac, but unfamiliar and in disbelief of his former existence.

As time past, though the cycle of time was much slower in this world, Peter watched his loved ones on Earth grow old. From his surreal perspective, Peter was able to communicate with the mortal world through dreams. Like his spectral mentor before him, Peter guided the ones he loved when they were very lost in life. He used this power scarcely, but when he did use it, it served as an immense comfort to the loss his death created.

This funeral was not an easy one to go through. The hope Peter instilled in his friends and family was a vast hope. And his few visits in the night brought that light back into their lives. Everyone took it a different way. Claire went through an identity crisis midway through her senior year, but quickly got back on track, through some divine intervention. Angela was grief stricken for the loss of Peter's potential in this life. But when she was greeted by him in his Astral Form, she knew that her son wasn't done impressing her.

Sylar took back the mantle of 'dark brooding rogue' and went into hiding for a few months. Mohinder and Noah were on edge, but doubted a return of Sylar's madness. After a time of mourning, Sylar came to Noah asking for a position in the Company. When he was given the post, he whole heartedly refused a partner. This was fine for a while, but with no partner Sylar had no other perspective. This would cause his somewhat headstrong demeanor to get him into binds. It was here that Peter would take liberty to interfere.

While retrieving pertinent information from the Ukraine, Sylar decided to stay overnight in the wrong part of Odessa. When there he tripped off several silent alarms, notifying a cell of Linderman's disciples. In the night, they went on their way with neutralizing meds and sedatives to bag and tag a sleeping Sylar.

That night Sylar foung himself in a particularly disturbing dream where he was lost in the sewer, stabbed through the chest. Every passage he would try, had an impossible obstacle or dead end. But a voice started to call out. As the voice grew louder, the wound fell away from his attention and soon was all gone. At the end of this sewer duct, Peter Petrelli stood underneath an open manhole, bright sunlight beaming straight down on him.

"Peter? Is that you?"

"Who else would it be? You?" An awkward silence. "That was a joke."

"I know." Sylar smiled. "I need to get out of this sewer."

"No you don't." Peter smiled back. "You're dreaming. And you've come a long way from this sewer. But wake up, ok?"

"Why?"

"Because you should've known better."

"What do you mean? I know I died on you..."

"That's not what I'm talking about." he laughed. "Don't worry about the past. Live in the present."

"So, what should I have known better, presently?"

"Go close your window. Odessa's winds blow cold. The ancient revenge of a dead race." Peter had learned to communicate cryptically from Charles. He loved it but he knew that he still needed to get the hang of it.

"It is cold." Sylar noticed. This was in fact Peter influencing the dream. "You're right. I need to get up to close that window. Thanks Pete." Before opening his eyes, Sylar looked to his lost partner wistfully.

"Did you really have to go? We were a great team."

Peter only shook his head, "Do you know why there is so much wickedness in the world?"

Sylar was shocked by the randomness of the question. _Then again_, he thought, _it is a dream._ He shook his head.

"It's because it never succeeds. My mother always told me that everyone must play their part. To make sure the wicked stay down, I need to play my part here. If keeping Raziel here means I have to stay, then so be it. But it's ok, cause you'll play your part down there. In a way, we're still a team. Now you better get going, Agent Gray."

Shaking off the odd, lucid feeling from the dream, Sylar suddenly heard a disturbance. As he ran to the next room, two older men were lifting themselves into the window. Sylar quickly dispatched them in an exemplary fashion. He wouldn't connect the dots concerning his open window and Peter's warning until days later. He was never so careless again.

Peter was greatly surprised and pleased at how well Sylar got along with Bennet and the Company. What also greatly pleased Peter was the way Sylar took Sari under his wing. Since his resurrection, Sylar was a whole new person. Neither Gabriel nor Sylar, really. But still both. His days of wallowing and regretting were way past him. That sadness and regret lay in the rubble on that empty Hyderabad street.

Sari began to live like a normal American. He didn't mind the difference in lifestyles, but it did take some getting used too. He was learning a lot from his personal tutor, Dr. Suresh. He also was developing a monster crush on Claire. Hiro and Sylar, prodigal big brothers, both reveled in the fact that Sari would develop into a fine, functioning teenager. Even possibly a worthy addition to the team.

The question of Sari's parents would come up from time to time. Not only because one of them had to have a power too, but because a boy who runs away from home couldn't have done so without a good reason. And Sari's reason was that they were dead. That was that, and he wouldn't speak anymore to it. But Sylar could tell that it wasn't the whole truth. They were just dead to Sari. Sylar never pushed the topic, because to take this boy out of his new environment and throw him back to the dogs would be villainous.

Sylar was happy he had someone to care for. Someone who actually appreciated him back. Sylar was discovering the wonders of familial love again. His appreciation for life shone through in his work. He was no longer tormented by the families of his victims. Sylar was dispatched to the field. Putting out small "fires" around the world.

When word would spring up about "miraculous" occurrences or 'unexplained' phenomenon, The Company would send their ace in the hole. His array of powers usually stayed sheathed in his arsenal. Most times Sylar was able to quell an ugly situation with his mind. It's not to say that every once in a while he had to melt a wall to get somewhere, but he would always pay back reparations.

And so it was done, on Earth as it was in Heaven. Balance and accord reigned supreme. Peter had seen what ultimate power meant, and Sylar had found love after being denied it for so long. The world and everyone in it was safe because there was a team of guardians, set on sustaining peace for a very long time.

The End.


End file.
